Seeing, Believing, Dreaming, Deceiving
by blackdragonsghost
Summary: Multi-chaptered fic based off of Hell's Ice Heaven's Fire's short fic "Pain". When the Order of the Phoenix turns against Harry and the young Saviour is losing his hold on sanity, he seeks the aid of the one person who has been there all his life: Tom Riddle. Slash. See inside for full warnings.
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: EEEP! I've betrayed my wonderful Gerald Tarrant and strayed from the realms of Erna into territories uncharted! Okay, maybe I'm exaggerating... but still. In case no one caught that reference, I'm an experienced slasher, but I've only written for the fandom of the Coldfire Trilogy. I decided to brave the wilds, though, so I spread my leathery wings and took flight in the land of Harry Potter. Of course, many many many thanks are due to Hell's Ice Heaven's Fire, who allowed me to adopt this adorable little plot bunny. Let's just hope I don't mess it up too bad! (Ah, my idea of adorable may vary from the norm... I'm with Hagrid, I thought Norbert was the cutest ever... but then again, Norbert's my little cousin twice removed, so of course I think he's cute! Mwa ha ha!)_

_Warnings: Slash (as in homosexual sex, for anyone who's that clueless), Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing. I seem to be developing a bit of a foul mouth. _

_Disclaimer: If I owned Harry Potter, I would be fantastically rich, and Ginny Weasley's role of 'romantic interest' would have been filled instead by either Draco Malfoy or Tom Riddle... I never could decide which pairing I like better. Tomarry, I think. Ah, who cares? They're both good. _

_A.N.2: Damn, I really feel like I'm having an affair... Gerald, can you ever forgive me? (Anyone who knows CF will probably see the irony there, considering what he did to his wife...) If anyone's going to hold this against me, though, it's probably Damien. He's just so stubborn, and he doesn't like me as much as Gerald. _

_A.N.3: I'll say this once. I have clearly stated that this is slash, explicit slash, and have designated it as 'M' rated. There is a reason that my username is black**dragons**ghost. Anyone who flames me is going to be in for a nasty surprise. I flame back. One perk of being a fire-breathing reptile. Heh heh. _

_A.N.4: Fic title is from the song Sleepwalker by Nightwish. I thought it fit Harry and Voldemort quite nicely. _

A gentle ringing permeated the soft blackness, an almost pleasant sound. Like the soft tinkling of tiny silver bells on a sleigh, or the gentle chimes of some delicate little clock. It grew slightly louder, then faded away again, then increased once more: a steady cycle, endlessly repeating.

Harry opened his eyes, but immediately shut them again when the blinding light stabbed into his brain like a knife. Groaning faintly, he slitted his eyes open again, ever so slightly, struggling to piece together his surroundings. Where was he, and why was he in so much pain? Had he come of worse in another confrontation with Voldemort? Been trampled by a rabid Hippogriff? Been mauled by a Blast-Ended Skrewt?

A window, blocked by welded bars. A sparse room, minimal furnishings in considerable disrepair. A battered trunk, a deserted owl cage, a stack of worn and dog-eared textbooks.

_Oh, shit._ In truth, Harry would have preferred to find himself in one of Voldemort's sinister lairs. It would have been better than this: at least the Dark Lord would probably kill him quickly. In this place, though, he was condemned to years and years of agonizing torture, ignored by everyone who professed to care for him.

He was trapped in the house of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, sentenced to two months of sheer Hell by the very friends and teachers who claimed to want to protect him.

With a groan, he rolled over and sat up on the edge of the bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. As his fingers strayed to his temple, he felt the roughness of crusted blood: he brushed away a few flakes of brownish red, wincing. When had that happened?

Oh, yes, that's right. That had happened when Uncle Vernon had an especially bad day at work yesterday, and upon arriving home decided to relax by taking out his aggressions on his defenseless nephew. Dudley, bored because he had thrown his TV through the window again, had joined in. Harry gingerly pulled his shirt up and winced: his entire side was mottled with green, blue, and livid purple. None of his ribs were actually _broken_ this time, although they did feel a little bent. He didn't remember it being that bad before... but then, his memory seemed a little hazy these days.

He sank back against his pathetically flat pillow with a sigh. A few years ago, he might have entertained the hopeful wish that the Order of the Phoenix would come and rescue him. That didn't seem so likely now, though. After Sirius's death, the Order had grown colder and colder: even Remus was pulling away, not even answering his letters anymore. Only Ron and Hermione still wrote to him, and there was nothing that they could do. For now at least, Harry was on his own.

He stared at the window, where slivers of light were poking around the edges of the threadbare curtains. His scar was prickling slightly: he wondered what Voldemort was doing right now. Over the last few months, his attitude toward the Dark Lord had been slowly but surely changing. When he was younger, he had believed that every word that came from Albus Dumbledore's mouth was gospel, and that the kindly bespectacled wizard could fix anything. _That_ illusion had shattered beyond repair just over a year ago, when Sirius died. Dumbledore couldn't save Sirius: he hadn't even tried. He'd even dared to suggest that it was all for the better, that it made Harry stronger and therefore wasn't as great a tragedy as it seemed. That statement had felt like a knife in Harry's heart. Sirius's death was not a _good_ thing - there wasn't a single redeeming feature about it. Sirius was the only real family he had left, the only person in the world who seemed to genuinely love him and care about him, and now he was gone. After that, Harry had begun to doubt other things that Dumbledore had said. Things about the war, things about the future, things about the past... things about Voldemort. If he thought that Sirius's death was in any way a good thing, then he must have a skewed view of the world. Maybe he was wrong about other things as well - and at least, Voldemort was always honest. He wanted to kill Muggles, yes, but he had never denied that. He was completely open about his goals. Dumbledore... Harry wasn't sure about him anymore.

As he lay there, a the faint ringing manifesting itself in the back of his mind made itself known once more. Almost like real bells, yet not quite: different somehow, echoing and persistent... it had been there for a long time now, on and off, ever since Sirius died. He hadn't mentioned it to anyone yet, though he had caught Hermione looking at him strangely during school last year. Sometimes the sound faded almost out of hearing, sometimes it was loud and strident like the tolling of church bells on Christmas Eve. Groaning, Harry stuffed his head underneath the pillow, but the ringing refused to stop. Damn it, he needed to sleep - why wouldn't it _stop_?

"**BOY! GET DOWN HERE**!"

No mistaking that shout. Harry said something that would have turned Mrs. Weasley's face as red as her hair if she had heard it and got up, swaying slightly as the ringing abruptly intensified. Rubbing absently at his scar, as if that would somehow stop the persistent noise, he stumbled to the door and dragged himself down the stairs.

The Dursleys were in the kitchen, clearly waiting for him to cook them breakfast. Uncle Vernon's purplish face sneered nastily at him. "Well, what are you waiting for, boy? I want my breakfast!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." Harry's voice was meek, but inside he was raging. How dare that fat Muggle order him around like that? Another voice whispered in his mind, sounding suspiciously like Albus Dumbledore. _Now now, Harry, it is all for your own good..._

Still wrestling with himself, Harry set about the task of cooking breakfast. The entire time he was cooking, though, the Dursleys were carrying on a conversation about him, completely ignoring the fact that he was in the room.

"Yes, Mrs. Polkiss was asking about him again. I told her about St. Brutus's Secure Center For Incurably Criminal Boys: she was very sympathetic. She understands how trying it can be, having one of those types around." Aunt Petunia was saying waspishly.

"No doubt." Vernon grunted. "Boy! Hurry up!"

"Yes, Uncle Vernon." _Fucking Muggle. Who are you to order me around? I'm the Boy Who Lived! I should be ordering __**you**__ around... no, don't think like that. That's bad. That's how Voldemort thinks, and he's wrong... isn't he?_

"**BOY! **Quit your Goddamn daydreaming!"

His face puce with rage once more, Vernon Dursley stood up and struck out. His large, meaty fist connected sharply with the side of Harry's head, and the teenager collapsed against the counter soundlessly, gasping as he felt a trickle of fresh blood run down the side of his face.

"Vernon, _really_, don't you think that's a tad much?" came Petunia's prissy voice. "I don't want to have to clean blood off the counter again, and the Turners are coming over for dinner on Wednesday!"

Harry barely heard her. With the blow against his head, the ringing - which had subsided almost into silence while he was cooking - resurged with a vengeance. His head was practically vibrating with the clanging reverberation: lifting his head, he glared at Vernon Dursley through a haze of blood, fifteen years of hatred searing through him like Basilisk venom.

Vernon, having turned to his wife during her little speech, turned back toward his nephew, and froze. Slowly, the realization finally penetrated his dense bubble of preocupation and hatred. Harry was staring at him from under his messy black bangs, face streaked with blood. His emerald eyes were narrowed dangerously, blazing with fury - and there was another detail that Vernon hadn't noticed before, one that made his blood run cold.

Harry's pupils had changed shape. They were narrow, vertical slits, like the eyes of a cat... or a snake.

Harry didn't even hear the shout of sudden alarm that escaped Vernon's lips: all he saw was the ruddy face paling, the beady eyes widening in fear, and triumph ripped through him like white-hot flames.

_YES! Tremble before me, Muggle! It's time you learned your place!_

A single word escaped Harry's lips, but no one in the room understood it. All they heard was a terrible, strangled hiss, like a snake kept too long in the dark, now finally exposed to the light.

"_**DIE!**_"

Pure unfettered magic exploded out of Harry's body, magic normally kept chained by what his teachers and friends had taught him: magic kept locked deep within himself because his conscious mind knew it was wrong, the wishes that stirred in the back of his mind. Now, those little voices were drowned out, subsumed beneath the deafening ringing of bells - and the magic lashed out like lightning, sinking into the bodies of the three Dursleys.

Vernon Dursley went first: his last scream still echoed in the air as the magic streaked through him and tore him apart. Tendons snapped like overstretched rubber bands, muscles tearing apart, flesh shredding like tissue paper - in a heartbeat the spotlessly white kitchen was splattered with vivid carmine. Petunia and Dudley hardly had time for their eyes to widen before Harry's wild magic pounced on them like a snarling panther. The whole scene disappeared from before Harry's eyes, blotted out by a haze of dripping red.

His magic snapped back into him as though on a tether, nearly knocking him over. He braced himself against the counter, the ringing slowly fading again as the throbbing pain in his temple intensified. Warm blood was flowing over his skin, wet and salty where it trickled over his lips. Blinking hazily, he glanced around vaguely, as though in a dream. He was distantly aware of crimson spatters on nearly every surface, and smiled dazedly.

_Hah. Your precious kitchen's not so clean anymore, is it, Auntie dear?_ was the last thought in his mind, before darkness drew him into its soft, warm embrace.

_There we go, first chapter of several! Reviews make the world go 'round, and you wouldn't want the world to stop spinning, now would you? C'mon, feed the review monster, you know you want to... see the pretty little purple button, right down there? Just press and type, that's all it takes... pretty please? (I know, I sound pathetic. What can I say? I like reviews.) _


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: Egads! Now that I'm writing in a more active fandom, I can see just how lethargic the Coldfire Trilogy is! It had been almost a month, and I'd only gotten one single review on my CF stuff, then I posted the first chapter of this, and within twenty minutes I was getting emails saying people were adding me to their alert lists and reviews pouring in! *Squeals and bounces up and down* I'm so happy! I can hardly believe it - I've even been added to "Favorite Author" lists! I am one ecstatic dragon! _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: I don't think J.K. writes slash. So no, I don't own Harry Potter. _

_A.N.2: Sadly, not all my updates will be this speedy (I kind of wrote most of this on my lunch break), but I will do my best. There's nothing worse than waiting on the next chapter of a fic. And of course, there's the little matter of that vow I made on my profile page... wouldn't want to break my word, would I? No sirree! _

_A.N.3: To all my kind reviewers, thank you so much for taking the time to give me feedback! In regard to a few remarks: Good Lord! Who knew you were such a bloodthirsty lot? I'm glad my efforts in the gore department were appreciated, I'm just amazed at the reaction... I do agree that there aren't nearly enough good Dark!Harry fics, though. Hopefully, this will still fall into the category of a 'good' fic by the time I finish it! And for those who may be impatiently awaiting the appearance of Voldemort - well, he is and he isn't in this chapter. You'll see. Oh, and I'm so glad someone liked the detail of Harry's elliptical pupils when he's having an 'episode'!_

_A.N.4: About those chapters... yes, I like long chapters too, unfortunately I am writing these things either in the middle of the night or on my lunch break because I work long hours and have two separate jobs, so I really only have two options. Short chapters updated every day or two, or long chapters that take a week to write. I thought it would be less tortuous if you got smaller chunks more often. And yes, I have been told that teasing people is dangerous - that's why I only do it over the Web, when you can't reach to throttle me. The beauties of technology, eh?_

For the second time in twenty-four hours, Harry woke up in pain. This time, though, the pain had nothing to do with his injuries, which seemed to have healed somehow. This time the pain was from the ringing. The bells were going full force in his head, drowning out anything else around him. He clutched his head, whimpering from the force of it. Too loud... it needed to stop!

"Harry! Harry, mate, it's all right!"

His eyes snapped open. He was in a darkened room, with the pale, freckled face of Ronald Weasley bending over him.

"It's all right, mate, you're safe!" Ron said, patting his arm encouragingly.

"What - where am I?" Harry asked weakly, blinking. His glasses were missing, and everything beyond Ron was rather blurry. The bells grudgingly faded a little, so that he could hear what his friend was saying. Ron grimaced at his question.

"The new Order headquarters. Apparently they found this place after the Malfoy woman got into Grimmauld Place. I'm not sure where this is, exactly: Dumbledore's blindfolding everyone on their way in, says it's safer that way. I think we're somewhere in downtown London, though."

Harry winced as the ringing peaked again momentarily. "Okay. What am I doing here, though?"

Ron stared at him, face growing even paler. "Wait, you don't remember? The Ministry got an alert this morning about some big magic going on at your aunt and uncle's place: when the Aurors got there, they found a total mess. Your aunt and uncle and cousin were all dead, torn apart, and you were unconscious. Dumbledore had you brought here while they try and figure out what happened."

Harry lay back against the pillow, feeling sick. Memories were stirring, fighting to break through the ringing of the bells. Uncle Vernon hitting him... Aunt Petunia talking about St. Brutus's... a haze of red, and the clanging bells...

"Oh, no." Harry whispered, dread curdling his blood. "Oh, Merlin, this is bad."

Ron blinked. "What's bad? Do you know what happened?"

"Yeah." Harry swallowed hard and looked up at his best friend. "I did it, Ron. I killed them."

Ron choked. "WHAT? But - mom said - they were completely torn apart, like a wild animal got them or something! What the _hell _did you do?"

"I lost control." Harry mumbled, covering his face with his hands, trying to blot out the memories. "Uncle Vernon's been beating me for the last few years, I told Dumbledore but he said there was nothing he could do... then this morning while I was making breakfast he hit me again, and I just snapped. It was like my magic just took on a life of its own: I remember a lot of red, then I must have passed out."

Ron gulped visibly. "You're serious, mate?" When Harry nodded, he swore. "Merlin's pants... that _isn't_ good. They've been beating you this whole time? Bloody hell." He glanced nervously toward the door. "Do you think they know?"

"Probably." Harry sighed, massaging his temples, feeling the ringing subside slightly. He couldn't let his anger at the Order overflow now: Ron was a friend, he had to focus on that. "It wasn't exactly subtle. I'll probably end up getting tried by the Ministry again."

"But you're of age now!" Ron objected. Harry snorted.

"I killed three people, Ron. I don't think underage magic is the issue here. We know the Dursleys had it coming, but I don't think the Order is going to see it that way."

"One way to find out." Ron said, looking a bit sheepish as he pulled an two Extendable Ears from his pocket. Harry brightened slightly.

"Brilliant, Ron!" he exclaimed, taking one of the devices. They both placed the ends of the Ears in their own ears, and waited while the enchanted strings wriggled out under the door and down the hall.

"Albus, he _is _only a boy." came a familiar voice: Remus, Harry realized. "He may have simply lost control."

"Even so, that would be unacceptable." Dumbledore replied, his voice grave. "He is the Chosen One: he must be more disciplined."

"You think they'll send him to Azkaban?" That was Mrs. Weasley, her normally cheerful voice oddly cold. Dumbledore replied once more.

"Who can say? He killed them, though, there can be no doubt of that. Such a brutal triple murder... they may sentence him to several years, regardless of his age."

Harry and Ron yanked the Extendable Ears out and stared at each other, horrified. They sat there for a minute, too stunned to do anything, then Ron shook his head. "This is insane. We can't let you get sent to Azkaban!"

Harry smiled bitterly. "Yeah, well, the Order doesn't seem too interested in getting me out of it, do they?" He dropped the Extendable Ear moodily onto the bed and stared at the far wall. "I wonder how long it would take me to go mad there - I'm probably halfway mad already."

"Don't talk like that, mate." Ron said nervously. "Look, they'll be in there arguing for a few more minutes: why don't you just go? Get out of here, hide out somewhere until school starts?"

Harry stared at him. "That's a really good idea, Ron. The Ministry probably won't look for me as much as the Order would. Do you know where my stuff is?"

"Yeah, it's all right here." Ron helped him to grab his trunk and Hedwig's cage, then he regarded him solemnly. "You take care of yourself, mate. The Order's changing: you might want to make some friends who aren't quite so close to Dumbledore."

"Ah - I've kind of taken care of that already." Harry said, smiling wryly. Oddly, the ringing seemed to have dimmed away again, almost silent. "You'd never guess, but my new pen-pal that I mentioned? He's Draco Malfoy."

"_What_?" The word came out in a strangled gasp as Ron gaped at him. "Malfoy? _Draco Malfoy_? I get that you want friends not in Dumbledore's pocket, Harry, but why Malfoy?"

"He's really not that bad, Ron." Harry defended his new friend. "He's actually really nice once you get to know him. He acts like a jerk to keep up appearances, but he's not really like that at all."

"Whatever you say, Harry." Ron said dubiously. The voices down the hall raised slightly, and both boys froze before Ron gestured hurriedly. "Come on, you need to get out of here _now. _I'll cover for you - go!"

Managing a swift thank-you, Harry hurried silently down the hall. He found his way to the front door and slipped outside: thankfully, it wasn't alarmed. He found himself on a nondescript street somewhere in London: judging by the moon's position, it was nearly midnight. Focusing himself, he Apparated to the Leaky Cauldron.

The pub was completely empty when he entered. Tom the barman was, as always, wiping out glasses with a rag. He looked up as Harry came in, and broke into a toothless, beaming smile. "Well well, hello Mr. Potter! What can I do for you this fine night?"

"I'm going to need a room, Tom." Harry said tiredly. The ringing was back, and it was growing louder by the moment. "I had a - a bit of a falling-out with my relatives."

"Of course, anything you need, Mr. Potter." Tom exclaimed happily. "Here, I'll take your luggage, and if you'll just follow me Mr. Potter, I'll show you to your room..."

Tom rattled on cheerfully as he led Harry up the stairs. By the time they reached the room, Harry was nearly asleep on his feet. Considering he'd been out cold for most of the day, he had no idea why he was so tired, but his eyelids were already drooping. He thanked Tom again, then more or less collapsed into bed, not even bothering to change out of his clothes.

Instantly, the ringing in his head seemed to explode. He bit his lip to stifle a cry of pain as he curled in on himself, clutching at his head. He could have sworn his head was actually vibrating with the force of the hellish clanging. Whimpering, he hardly noticed that he had started to speak, the soft hisses of Parseltongue falling helplessly from his mouth.

"_Please, make it stop, make it stop..._"

Shaking from head to toe, succumbing to the ringing of the bells, Harry fell into blackness...

_He was floating in a sea of darkness, warm and soft, like a cradle of black velvet. The ringing softened and vanished: Harry breathed a sigh of relief at its absence, and relaxed. He was safe here, in the darkness..._

_He heard a sound behind him, a soft rustling, and turned. He found himself face-to-face with Lord Voldemort._

_The snake-faced Dark Lord was regarding him with a smirk on his almost nonexistent lips, scarlet eyes glinting. "I see the legendary Boy Who Lived doesn't have quite the perfect life that the Daily Prophet talks about." he said, his voice soft and hissing._

"_What are you doing here?" Harry asked nervously, searching his pockets for his wand, but it seemed to have disappeared. Why weren't the bells deafening him? They seemed to ring to warn him of danger, wasn't Voldemort the greatest danger to him of all?_

"_I am here because you are here." Voldemort said simply, moving closer. His black robes were indistinguishable from the darkness around them: only his face was clear, his inhuman, serpentine face. "The real question you should ask, Harry Potter, is why you are here."_

_Harry stared at him. This was getting steadily odder with each passing moment. "Why am I here, then?"_

"_Because you have finally realized that the darkness is the only truly safe place for you, Harry." the Dark Lord hissed. Harry felt a shiver run down his spine, and he started as he realized just how close together they were now. Hastily, he took a small step back, still staring at Voldemort's red eyes. _

"_But that's not true - you're here, so I'm not really that safe, am I?"_

"_I have not attempted to harm you, have I?" Voldemort asked softly, raising a non-existent eyebrow. "Perhaps you would feel more at ease if I undo the glamours..."_

_A wave from his bone-white wand, and the image of the serpentine Dark Lord fell away: standing in front of Harry was none other than Tom Riddle, young, dark-haired, and strikingly handsome. He looked hardly older than he had in the Pensieve, when he was working for Borgin & Burkes. Harry gaped._

"_What? But - Dumbledore said-"_

"_That my appearance was because of my Horcruxes?" Riddle interrupted him, smirking more fully now, twirling his wand idly. "My dear Harry, that is the least of the lies told to you by the noble Headmaster. I found that my serpentine appearance served well to frighten the foolish and superstitious. My followers know the truth, of course... and now you as well."_

_Harry swallowed hard, and started to take another step backward, but found he could not. "What - what do you want from me?"_

"_For the moment? Nothing." Riddle said softly, staring into his eyes. "In time? Everything." He moved closer still, until they were only inches apart. "You don't understand yet, Harry, but you will."_

_The Dark Lord reached up and rested his pale fingers lightly on Harry's jaw, tilting his head up until they were staring directly into each other's eyes. Harry's heart was pounding, but he wasn't sure if it was with fear, or something else. He was staring into the crimson eyes of the Dark Lord himself, but he didn't **feel** afraid: why? Was Ri- Voldemort (not Riddle, he's still Voldemort, no matter what he looks like! Harry berated himself) telling the truth? Was he really safe here?_

"_Sooner or later, you'll understand everything." Riddle murmured, then he leaned down and kissed him._

_Harry froze, his eyes slipping shut out of shock. Riddle's lips were warmer than he expected, soft and firm at the same time, certain and unhesitating. The handsome Dark Lord tightened his grip, pressing his thumb harder into Harry's jaw, and using the resultant gasp to slip his tongue into the young Saviour's mouth._

_All thought of fighting disappeared from Harry's mind as that hot, wet, clever tongue set to work on plundering his mouth. He melted into Riddle's arms, not caring that this was Lord Voldemort, the man who murdered his parents: not caring even that he was kissing back just as fervently. Riddle chuckled as he broke the kiss, trailing his lips down over Harry's jaw and along his neck, murmuring softly as he did so._

"_Careful, Harry. I might think you didn't hate me anymore."_

_Harry could only gasp for breath and cling to the taller man, the name slipping from his lips without conscious volition. "Tom..."_

_Another chuckle then, and the Dark Lord lifted his head, his crimson eyes searing right through Harry. "Only you," he murmured, slender fingers stroking gently along the side of Harry's neck. "Only you can ever call me that," He cupped Harry's face between his hands, lips just ghosting over Harry's as he added in a whisper, "My little serpent."_

Harry bolted awake, heart hammering in his chest. He lay frozen for a moment, eyes flickering frantically around the room. No Tom Riddle, no Lord Voldemort either: just his room at the Leaky Cauldron, sparse and simple and uninhabited but for Harry himself and possibly a few rats.

He let his head sink back against the pillow, exhausted, relieved, and disappointed in equal measures. He knew it was wrong, but he couldn't help feeling let down that it hadn't been real: kissing Tom Riddle had been disturbingly wonderful, a forbidden pleasure such as he had never imagined before.

A low ringing began in the back of his head. Harry groaned, rolled over, and yanked the pillow over his head, as if that would somehow shield him from the sound. It was going to be a long night.

_There we go, another lovely tortuous cliffhanger! So sorry for torturing you, my dear readers, but I have to make sure you keep coming back for more, now don't I? Reviews are a dragon's favorite food, if you have some lying around I'll happily take them! _


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Yikes! I think I'm going to be hunted down by a mob of pitchfork-wielding reviewers! I know, I know, the cliffhangers are evil - it's just how I roll! I'll update as often as I possibly can, I promise! I'm glad everyone's enjoying this, though. One thing I feel obliged to point out - I can't take full credit for the fact that Ron is on Harry's side (which seems to be quite remarkable for most of my readers) as that idea is taken straight from "Pain". I'm glad I stuck with it, though, it seems to be a rarity in this type of fic!_

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Anyone who thinks I own Harry Potter is crazier than Harry Potter. Eh, that sounded weird... look, I don't own Harry Potter, okay? Sheesh. _

_A.N.2: This isn't quite within twenty four hours of the last one, but it's close. Within twenty eight hours, at least. The swift update is entirely due to the lovely reviewers who were so very frantic for swift updates. I live to please! _

The night passed without further dreams. When he woke in the morning, Harry wasn't sure whether to be happy or disappointed over that. Granted, he'd spent an entire year trying to learn Occlumency just to keep Voldemort out of his head... but that had been Tom Riddle, not Voldemort. Somehow he couldn't shake the feeling that there was indeed a difference, a very important one. The Dark Lord hadn't _acted_ like the cruel and heartless paragon of evil that he usually was: he had acted like a real human being.

Of course, the fact that he had kissed Harry nearly senseless most likely had something to do with the teen's confusion.

Harry had only known he was gay for a little over two years now. At first he'd thought it was only Ginny that he didn't really like, because she was in Dumbledore's pocket like her mother, but upon looking around the school he'd realized that there wasn't a single girl he really, truly liked. That had led to some serious soul-searching, and the revelation that he _did_ like a few of the boys. That hadn't disturbed him quite as much as the first time he'd awoken to discover he was dreaming about the young Tom Riddle he had seen in the diary in second year. He had told Ron and Hermione about his preferences, but asked them to keep it quite: the last thing he needed was the Daily Prophet finding out and plastering the news across all of wizarding Britain. He did not, however, tell them that he was dreaming about the younger, more handsome version of the Dark Lord. There were some things you just didn't share with your friends.

After eating, Harry decided to write to Draco and tell him what had happened. He sat for a long time staring at the parchment, trying to decide how much to tell his friend, before he finally started to write.

_Draco,_

_With your dad's connections, you've probably already heard what happened yesterday morning. The Muggle police are probably thinking it was home invasion or something. It wasn't. My uncle had been beating me for a few years now, but yesterday, I finally lost control. I don't really remember what happened, and I blacked out right afterward. When I woke up, I was at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix. I think Dumbledore must have come and gotten me from the Dursley's, but I don't know if the Ministry knows that's what happened. _

_I wanted to let you know that I'm at the Leaky Cauldron, and I'm all right - at least for now. I think I'm in really big trouble, though, and not just from the Ministry. The Order's turned on me, Dumbledore was talking about 'disciplining' me. I'm sure now that they're just using me, and I'm through with that. Ron helped me get away, but I'm not sure who else I can trust. Not Ginny, that's for sure. Hermione's solid, and I think Fred and George are okay, but Remus isn't - he's letting Dumbledore lead him around by the nose. _

_I'm a bit scared, actually. The Order's been ordering me around for so long that I don't really know what to do now. I need to ask a favor of you. I know we kind of agreed not to talk about this, but we both know your dad's a Death Eater - is there any chance that Voldemort won't come after me as long as I'm not actively fighting? I'm sick of this war, Draco, and I don't want to be the Chosen One any more. I don't want to keep fighting other people's battles. _

_Hope to hear back soon,_

_Harry._

Two days after he sent the letter, during which time he more or less hid in his room, a response came back. It was short and to the point.

_Harry,_

_I showed my father your letter, and he's gone to the Ministry to sort this out. If your uncle was beating you, you have a good case for self-defense - and the Minister won't want to be the one who locked up the Boy Who Lived for killing his abusive Muggle relatives. _

_Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me about this. Father talked to certain - acquaintances - and I have it on good authority that as long as you do not try to interfere, the Dark Lord is more than happy to leave you alone. He does wish for me to convey the offer of joining him, though. He would be happy to have you on his side, and he would be more than happy to defend you from the Order. He was rather excited at the idea, oddly. Perhaps you know what that is all about. _

_Hopefully we will get this mess sorted out quickly. _

_Draco._

Harry stared down at the parchment, his hands starting to shake slightly. Voldemort was _excited_ at the prospect of recruiting him? He flashed back on the dream, and his stomach gave an odd lurch. Maybe it hadn't been just a dream after all...

Three days later, Harry was just finishing breakfast when there was a knock on the door and Tom poked his head in, beaming. "Mr. Malfoy is here to speak to you, Mr. Potter!"

"Mr. Malfoy?" Harry said, startled. "Um - of course, send him in." Inwardly, his mind was racing. What would Lucius Malfoy be doing here? Was he here in the capacity of Ministry representative, Draco's father, or Death Eater? Which option was the worst?

Lucius entered and gracefully inclined his head. "Mr. Potter. I trust I find you well?"

"Pretty much so." Harry said warily, the ringing a soft but steady sound in the back of his mind. "Have you heard about what - what happened?"

"If you are referring to the regrettable incident with your relatives, then yes." Lucius said, folding his hands over the top of his cane. "Draco informed me of the circumstances. I have just come from the Ministry: they have ruled your actions as being a clear case of self-defense. I volunteered to inform you of their decision - no action will be taken against you."

Harry could hardly believe his ears. "They _aren't_ going to charge me with anything?"

"Hardly." Lucius said smoothly. "They were beating you, on a regular basis it appears: your actions were fully understandable, even justified. The Ministry has no wish to persecute those suffering at the hands of Muggles, Mr. Potter. Now, as to the matter of Albus Dumbledore's actions. It appears that he did indeed transport you from the Dursley house to the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, and the Ministry was not informed of your location. They are investigating that matter at present, and if I have anything to say about it they will finally remove that old fool from his post once and for all."

Harry sighed in relief. "That's great. I don't think I'd be able to go back to Hogwarts otherwise: if he's still headmaster, he'll come after me." He looked up at Lucius, his expression earnest. "Thank you so much for helping me out like this, Mr. Malfoy."

Lucius waved a hand dismissively. "Think nothing of it. My son was most adamant that you were no longer the Gryffindor Golden Boy, and I see that he was quite right." He paused. "Have you considered the offer that was presented to you?"

"Yes, I have." Harry said honestly. "I'll need more time to think it over. I know I'm never going back to the Order, I'm just not sure if I'm ready to take that last step."

Lucius nodded. "I understand. I shall convey that to the Dark Lord." He turned to leave, and Harry felt a sudden surge of recklessness.

"Oh, and Mr. Malfoy?" Lucius paused and half-turned.

"Yes Mr. Potter?"

"Could you also please ask his Lordship to stay out of my head?" Harry inquired with feigned innocence.

Lucius nearly choked, but he recovered himself and inclined his head, although he did look even paler than usual. "I - I shall do so."

Harry grinned. "Thanks."

Lucius Malfoy beat a hasty retreat. He would never admit it, but there was something about this new Harry Potter that chilled him to the core. That smile... that wide, dazzling, half-manic smile... it was both deeply disturbing, and uncannily reminiscent of the Dark Lord himself.

Harry flopped back against his pillows, giggling quietly. Wonder what the high and mighty Voldemort would think of that little message? He'd probably go slaughter some innocent Muggle out of sheer frustration. At this point, that thought didn't even disturb Harry: distantly, he wondered why that was. Wasn't he supposed to defend the Muggle? Shouldn't he be trying to stop the Dark Lord? But why?

All that Muggles had ever done was torture him. Uncle Vernon beat him, Aunt Petunia screamed at him, Dudley was just plain awful. Harry had met a few nice Muggles, he was sure, but he couldn't recall any of their faces. Maybe it didn't really matter after all.

The ringing peaked sharply, and he felt anger rise up inside himself. Why wouldn't that accursed ringing be silent? That was probably his uncle's fault too!

With that thought, Harry unleashed a furious blast of magic at the window. Enveloped in a wash of shimmering light, the glass pane shattered - and instantly reformed itself, shattered again, repaired itself and popped neatly back into place in the frame. Harry stared at it for a moment, taken aback, then grinned. Maybe there were some upsides to this mess after all!

The next day, just as Harry was getting ready for bed, he received another latter from Draco.

_Harry,_

_You're completely mental, you do know that, right? I don't know what crazy, semi-suicidal game you're playing, but I would really appreciate it if you left me out of it in the future. Although, I do have to thank you: that's the first time I've ever seen the Dark Lord laugh. _

_He really, actually laughed. A genuine, full-on laugh, not that weird hissing thing he usually does. It was scarier than the hissing, actually. At least when he hisses, you know what to expect. This, though, was totally unprecedented. After he laughed, he told Father to tell me to tell you that your head is his head too, whatever the hell that is supposed to mean. I don't mean to push here, Harry, but since when are you on such friendly terms with the Dark Lord? And what in Merlin's name was he talking about? _

_I just hope you know what you're getting into._

_Draco._

Harry grinned ruefully and scribbled a short reply.

_Draco,_

_It's a really long story, but to cut it short, thanks to Voldemort trying to kill me I have a piece of his soul stuck inside me. That means that he can get into my head sometimes. He used to do it to try and lure me out so he could kill me, but lately I think he's been doing it just for fun. Obviously, he's not going to stop. Worth a shot, though._

_Yes, I know what I'm getting into. Don't worry. I'll be careful. _

_Harry._

Still grinning, Harry sent the letter off with Hedwig and flopped back on his pillows, sighing contentedly. Oddly enough, he felt happier now than he ever had with the Dursleys, even though he was now hiding from both Voldemort and the Order. Well, not actually hiding from Voldemort, so much as just staying out of his way. It was a great improvement, really.

He wondered what Dumbledore would say if he knew Harry was in steady correspondence with a Death Eater's son and, by proxy, Voldemort himself. The old coot would probably have a heart attack on the spot.

_That would serve him right. _Harry thought viciously. He decided that in the morning, he would write to Ron and Hermione, reassure them that he was all right. He couldn't tell them where he was, of course, just in case the Order was reading their mail, but he could tell them he was safe. Rolling onto his side, Harry spelled the light off and drifted to sleep, feeling happier than he had in a long time.

_He was standing once more in utter blackness. His pulse skyrocketed: this seemed awfully familiar..._

_A soft voice spoke, inches behind him, so close he could feel the speaker's warm breath on the back of his neck. He hardly even noticed that the words were in Parseltongue. "**Welcome back, Harry.**"_

_Oh, I just know I'm going to catch hell for that teaser! Don't worry, next chapter coming soon: go ahead and review, if only to tell me how righteously pissed off you are! I thrive on feedback happy or irritable!_


	4. Chapter 4

_**Author's Note: Yes, you're getting the rest of the scene that I cut off at the end of last chapter: I'm not so cruel as to deprive you all of that Tom Riddle deliciousness! As to why it cut off there - you really want to know? Fine. My boss just about caught me writing when I technically should have been working and I decided to stop tempting fate for the day. That's just how it goes. I can't help it! I don't torture my readers by choice! (Well, maybe just a little teensy-weensy bit...)**_

_**Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing.**_

_**Disclaimer: Nope, I still don't own Harry Potter. What a shock, eh?**_

_**A.N.2: This may be the last update for a few days. :( I know, you'll all hate me for that, but I'm moving and my roommate and I have to get a lot of packing done in a very short time frame so I may not have time to write. I will endeavor to keep this from being too much of a cliffhanger, and I will update as soon as humanly possible. **_

_**A.N.3: I can't very well explain the ringing sound just yet, that's a major part of the plot! I will give you this little tidbit: it's all Dumbledore's fault. That's all you're getting. And I'm sorry that this is so short, but again, RL keeps interfering with my writing. Don't you just hate the real world sometimes? **_

_Harry froze, heart stuttering in his chest. "T-Tom?"_

_A soft chuckle sounded: Harry felt a pair of warm lips ghost over the back of his neck, teasing his senses into overdrive. "Who else, my little serpent? I was most amused by your message. I think my mirth may have traumatized the poor Malfoy boy, though..."_

"_I guess this means you decided not to listen." Harry said, grabbing for the remnants of his courage. What the hell was wrong with him? In the real world he was getting bolder and more reckless by the minute, but the second he was here, alone with Riddle, he just fell apart!_

_Riddle chuckled again, and his arms snaked around Harry's waist, pulling the teen flush against a hard, muscular chest. Harry couldn't suppress a soft 'Eep!' of surprise, and the Dark Lord's laughter increased. "Really now, Harry." he purred, easily holding the Saviour captive. "Did you think I was going to obey you? You may be the Boy Who Lived, my little serpent, but you cannot presume to dictate orders to me."_

"_Don't call me that." Harry said firmly, trying to pull away, sudden anger giving him strength. He felt Riddle's lips curve into a smile where they brushed against his skin._

"_Why ever not? After all, you are mine - or you will be, soon enough. And are you not the only other living being who can speak in the **tongue of serpents**?" The last was uttered in a low, vibrant hiss that seemed to slither over Harry's skin like a dark, heated caress. _

_Harry shivered. "I wasn't talking about that." he whispered, fighting down the dangerous feelings of longing rising inside himself, unconsciously pressing himself back into Riddle's embrace. "I meant 'the Boy Who Lived'. I hate that name."_

"_Really?" Riddle's movements stilled for a moment, then his hand came up and cupped Harry's chin, tilting the teen's head back and around until their eyes met. Harry could see the curiosity in the Dark Lord's scarlet eyes, where before there had been only darkness and malice. "Why is that?"_

"_Because it isn't me." Harry muttered, feeling himself flush slightly, but knowing that if anyone would understand the loathing for such a name it would be Riddle. "The Boy Who Lived is just a tool for Dumbledore to use, a figurehead for the Light. I don't want to be that person anymore. I just want to be Harry."_

_Riddle stared at him for a moment, and it seemed as though his red eyes softened slightly. "That, I can understand." he said softly, his expression turning distant. It seemed he was only partly speaking to Harry, partly to himself. "Dumbledore has always been very fond of using people." He considered a moment more, one hand idly tracing over Harry's side and sending ripples of heat through the bewildered teenager's body, then he released Harry abruptly. "At least you caught on in time." he said, the amusement back in his voice. _

_Harry took a few quick steps away, eyes wide as he stared at his one-time enemy. "What are you talking about?"_

"_Oh, he hasn't told you yet?" Riddle asked, his eyes lighting up, glittering like bloody flames. He chuckled with a strange, malicious glee."Well, I would so hate to spoil the surprise, Harry. I'll just let you dig through the lies on your own, I think. I want to see how fast you puzzle it out."_

_Harry narrowed his eyes at Riddle. "I can tell you're toying with me, you know. I'm not stupid."_

"_I never implied that you were." Riddle said, arching one eyebrow. His manner seemed almost... teasing. Harry blinked. _

"_Alright, then, why won't you just tell me what's going on?"_

"_I already told you, Harry. I want to see you unravel the mystery." the Dark Lord replied, his expression almost mischevious. "Just how much has dear old Albus told you?"_

"_I know about the Horcruxes if that's what you're hinting at." Harry said, frowning. Riddle smirked delightedly. _

"_Excellent - did he tell you how many?"_

"_Seven." Harry said, growing a little impatient now. "I know that I'm one of them, even though you're not supposed to be able to turn living creatures into Horcruxes, which means it's a damn good bet that Nagini is one as well. Is there a point to this little discussion?"_

"_I think you'll get the rest of the way on your own." Riddle said, smirk widening. "Just consider this." As he spoke, he was moving closer to Harry again: by the time he paused, they were almost touching. Riddle leaned down, his lips hovering just over Harry's as he murmured, "Why does Dumbledore want you to know about the Horcruxes?"_

_Harry tilted his head back slightly, gazing into Riddle's eyes as though hypnotized, enraptured by those brilliant crimson orbs..._

...only to be catapulted out of the dream so fast, his body jerked as though he'd been flung back into the bed.

He lay there, stunned, chest heaving. He stared up at the ceiling, not comprehending at first what he was seeing - then fury roiled up inside him.

"TOM!" he bellowed, sitting bolt upright, rage boiling in his veins. Reacting to his frustration, his magic flared out in a volatile cloud, and the mirror on the dresser shattered violently.

Harry reigned in his anger, feeling a bit guilty. He had to stop losing control like that: it would be a real problem once he went back to Hogwarts. Still, that had been totally unfair of Riddle, to throw him back like that just as things were getting interesting again! Rising, he stormed across the room and waved his wand angrily at the mirror shards.

"Reparo!"

The mirror flew back together and into its frame. Harry caught a glimpse of himself in the glass - and jumped back with a yelp of astonishment. His eyes were glowing green, brilliant as a cat's eyes at night, and the pupils had shifted into vertical slits. In fact... his eyes looked uncannily like Voldemort's eyes, save that the irises were green instead of red.

Harry's shock overruled his anger and his eyes slowly dimmed, pupils shifting back to normal. Harry sank back onto the bed, mouth suddenly dry. That couldn't be a good sign...

Unsettled but deciding to put the matter from his mind for the moment, Harry pulled out parchment and a quill and wrote a quick letter to his friends.

_Ron,_

_I'm sure Hermione's with you, wherever you are, so I'm writing this to both of you. I can't tell you where I am in case this gets intercepted, but I am safe. I've written to Draco, and his dad talked to the Minister, and I won't be charged with anything. They've decided that it was self-defense. Mr. Malfoy even said that they're now investigating why Dumbledore took me from Privet Drive afterward without informing the Ministry, so I think the shit's about to hit the fan. (That's a Muggle expression, Ron, Hermione can probably explain it better than I could.) _

_I won't be coming back to the Order, ever. I've got a bit of an understanding with Voldemort: as long as I'm not causing trouble for him, he won't cause trouble for me. I think I'm actually more at risk from the Order than from the Death Eaters, at this point. I'll understand if it's too risky for you to write back: just stay safe, please. I don't want to lose anyone else I care about. _

_Hopefully things will have settled down by September, and I'll be able to join you at Hogwarts. If not... then I'll have to figure out some other way to get in touch with you. I hope you guys are all right._

_Harry._

Shortly after sending that off he received another note from Draco, the tone of which was even more bewildered than the last.

_Harry, _

_I am supposed to tell you that if you really have a piece of the Dark Lord's soul in you, that should make you smarter. Now that that is out of the way - what on Earth are playing at? And would you please figure out another system of communication? Because it is starting to seriously creep me out that you and the Dark Lord himself are playing this weird game you've got going on, and using me as an intermediary! _

_And what the hell do you mean, you've got a piece of his soul inside you? No, don't answer that. If I get one more of these damn cryptic letters, or one more brain-bending message for the Dark Lord, I am going to go insane. Do you know what he did after he told me what to say to you? He **GRINNED** at me! Remember that grin that the Weasley twins used to wear all the time, that sort of half-deranged face-splitting grin that meant someone was about to break out in purple boils? He used that grin! My nerves are already shot, Harry, I can't take this. Having the Dark Lord GRIN at me was the last straw. Please find some other poor sap to be you messenger, I won't survive the job! _

_Extremely sincerely,_

_Draco._

Harry laughed out loud at that. _Poor Draco_, he thought, grinning. He was half tempted to write back with another message for Riddle, just to see Draco's reaction, but he just wasn't that cruel. Instead he sent Draco's owl back without another letter, and considered his next move. He needed to lay low for a while, until the Ministry had made some sort of move to keep Dumbledore in check. The last thing Harry needed was to get himself captured by his erstwhile 'friends'. Though the Headmaster cultivated an image that was kind, benevolent, and almost grandfatherly, Harry knew that behind that mask he could be just as ruthless as the Dark Lord, and even more deceptive.

In the end, he made a brief foray into Diagon Alley for supplies, then retreated to his room and settled himself there with a stack of research materials that Dumbledore had given him last year, all pertaining to Horcruxes. He had a nagging suspicion that somehow, he was crucial to the Order's plans not just because he was the Boy Who Lived, but because he was a Horcrux.

It was hours later, well into the stack of books, when the penny finally dropped. Harry froze, his eyes losing focus, the quill slipping from suddenly nerveless fingers as he replayed Riddle's words.

_Why does Dumbledore want you to know about the Horcruxes?_

"Because he wants me to destroy them." Harry breathed aloud, staring blankly across the room. "But - if I _am_ one of the Horcruxes... he's planning on killing me!"

It felt as though the blood in his veins had been suddenly replaced with ice water. He started to shiver uncontrollably and shut the book quickly, feeling sick. He'd known the Headmaster wasn't as kind and protective as he had once thought, but... to smile kindly at him and play the role of protector while ruthlessly plotting his untimely death? That was cruel, crueler than anything Voldemort had ever done. When the Dark Lord decided someone needed to die, it was carried out quickly and efficiently, and he never pretended to be on someone's side like that only to betray them. Harry wrapped his arms tightly around himself and thought, hard. According to Dumbledore, he was able to destroy the Horcruxes more easily than anyone else because he was one: how was the old man planning on disposing of him in turn?

A very unpleasant suspicion began to creep over Harry. He tried to ignore it, his mind fleeing the idea, but it pounced on him nonetheless. Dumbledore had known what the Dursleys were doing to Harry, had done nothing to rescue the teen, had insisted he return time and again to their house... had the old wizard planned on driving Harry into such a depression that he killed himself?

Harry didn't even want to think about that possibility, but it was too strong to ignore. Why else would Dumbledore have insisted that he remain with the Dursleys? Why else would he subject the Saviour of the Wizarding World to that kind of torture over and over again? Harry had often wondered why Dumbledore would do that to him, and now, he might have found the answer...

One thing was certain. Dumbledore might have been using Harry to destroy the other Horcruxes, but now that Harry had fled the Order, Dumbledore would hesitate no longer. If the Order got ahold of Harry, he was as good as dead. He couldn't let himself be found.

It was a lot to take in, in so short a time. Harry's head was already pounding, but within moments he felt the ringing start again, building until it overtook the pounding. Groaning, he flung himself into bed, pausing only long enough to put up his Occlumency shields. He was still sorting through this nightmare, he needed a good night's sleep without Riddle showing up to mess with his head. Exhausted, and oddly lulled by the steady ringing sound, he fell asleep swiftly.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's Note: Finally! I can't believe that it's taken me this long to update! Moving sucks. In recompense, I give you the longest chapter to date - almost twice as long as the others. Enjoy!_

_A.N.2: Aww, I have such kind reviewers. You people are absolutely insatiable, though! I can see why PWP one-shots are so prevalent in this fandom... anyway, here we go, chapter five. Will answer certain questions regarding just WHO is still on Harry's side, and that's all I'll say for now._

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Do lawyers really have nothing better than to hunt down people for posting fanfiction? IT'S NOT MINE! I OWN NOTHING!_

_A.N.3: With regard to the OOC Malfoys: yes, I know, they're wildly out of character. I have two main reasons for that: firstly, it does indeed provide a contrast between them and Harry. Secondly, they're still all arrogant and aristocratic in public: I just don't believe they'd really be like that all the time. Harry's kind of been adopted into their family now, so they're comfortable with showing their more relaxed side around him. (Thirdly, if I tried to write a really good aristocratic Draco, I'd get seriously carried away and start neglecting other characters because I'm kind of in love with him.)_

_A.N.4: I have no idea if the crime of Reckless Endangerment exists in Britain, or if that's what it would be called there: I just went with that because I've already taken waaay too long to write this thing and I didn't have time for research. _

Exactly one week before the Hogwarts Express was due to leave, Harry finally got another note from Draco. It was accompanied by a copy of the Daily Prophet. Laying aside the paper for a moment, Harry opened the note.

_Harry, _

_I know you've been trying to lay low, so I figured I'd send a copy of the Prophet - you'll probably enjoy the main article. To summarize, Dumbledore's out on his ear, and father's busily eradicating every trace of the old coot from the school. I'll fill you in on the real details on the train. See you in a week._

_Draco._

Intrigued, Harry unfolded the paper. The front page was entirely covered by a massive article, the headline of which screamed, _**Hogwarts Headmaster Disgraced!**_ This was underscored by a moving picture of Albus Dumbledore being dragged through the front doors of Hogwarts, in handcuffs!

Harry gaped, then dropped his gaze eagerly to the article. He laughed aloud when he saw the name of the reporter: about time Rita Skeeter turned her poisoned quill on someone other than Harry. Practically vibrating with anticipation, Harry began to read the article.

_**Dumbledore: Dedicated Defender, or Deranged Dingbat?**_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore has been accused of many things over the course of his long and colorful career, but never have these accusations been proven, or the threatened consequences carried out. Even five years ago, when the Chamber of Secrets was opened and several students and staff were nearly killed, though the Headmaster was removed from his post he was later reinstated without any lasting consequences for his reckless endangerment of the students in his care. All that changed yesterday, however, when he was taken into custody by a party of Aurors on charges of Reckless Endangerment and Kidnapping. _

_A little over a month ago, the wizarding world was taken by storm by the gruesome death of Vernon and Petunia Dursley, the only living relatives of Harry Potter. During the ensuing investigation it was revealed that the Muggles had in fact been physically abusing the Boy Who Lived, and that their deaths were a clear case of self-defense. Many wondered how Albus Dumbledore, the Chosen One's self-proclaimed protector, could have missed such an obvious case of abuse. That question was answered by the Auror department in this morning's interview._

"_Headmaster Dumbledore was well aware of what was happening at that household." said Kingsley Shacklebolt, Head of the Auror Office. "He knew that Mr. Potter was being mistreated, and neither acted to correct the situation nor alerted the Ministry to the abuse. He knowingly allowed the abuse to continue, which is utterly inexcusable. Whatever happens at the trial, Albus Dumbledore will never teach again."_

_Good news for those whose children are enrolled at Hogwarts, however: the school will not be left without leadership in the coming days. The Ministry has already appointed a new Headmaster, and hopes are high for his achievements in the next year. _

_Lucius Malfoy, a dear friend of the Minister's and a highly trusted individual in the Ministry, will be taking up the mantel of Hogwarts Headmaster in Albus Dumbledore's place. Many parents express their relief at Dumbledore's removal from his post, and their hopes for a much brighter and safer future with Lucius Malfoy at the reigns._

"_Mr. Malfoy is just what that school needs: reliable, strong, and completely sane." said one parent. "In these troubled times, with You-Know-Who gaining power again, we need to know that our children are in safe hands. I will definitely sleep easier this year, knowing that Mr. Malfoy will be watching over my little Pansy."_

_The trial date is set for September 17th, when the former Headmaster will face a full assembly of the Wizengamot. In the meantime, anxious parents may rest easy: the new year at Hogwarts shall begin under the leadership of a responsible, trustworthy wizard._

Harry laughed until there were tears running down his cheeks. Lucius Malfoy, keeping the students safe by defending them from Voldemort? That was the biggest joke he'd ever heard! Still, his heart felt lighter than it had in years. Dumbledore was finally gone, and Harry could return to Hogwarts without a cloud of impending doom hanging over him at every turn. He wouldn't have to worry about Dumbledore's schemes again for a long while.

So it was that a cold, clear morning in September found Harry walking onto Platform 9 3/4 at King's Cross Station, lugging his trunk and Hedwig's cage and braced for an eruption of chaos. He wasn't disappointed.

"Oh Merlin, it's Harry Potter!"

The shouts spread through the crowd like wildfire, but fortunately for Harry, before he could be swarmed by his adoring fans Draco Malfoy materialized out of the crowd and dragged him aside.

"Watch out for the rabid fans, Harry." the blond said, smiling wryly as he pulled Harry safely onto the train, a mild Disillusionment charm making sure that no one saw where they had gone. Harry laughed, relieved.

"Thanks, Draco. Yeah, I know, they're a bit much sometimes - make that all the time. How've you been?"

"Fine." Draco said, studying him intently. "What about you? The _Prophet_'s been in an uproar, what with you more or less disappearing. Father told the Ministry that you were just laying low for a while, but the general public wasn't really buying it. A lot of people were starting to claim you'd been kidnapped by the Dark Lord."

Harry laughed. "Yeah, and then there's what they said in the issue of the _Prophet_ that you sent me - about your dad keeping the kids safe from Voldemort."

Draco smiled. "Yes, it is rather ironic. I saw your Weasley friends on the platform a little while ago - their mother was making some rather unflattering remarks about you. She isn't really very fond of you, is she?"

"She pretends that she is, but she's completely on Dumbledore's side." Harry said, a hint of anger spiking through him. So for all they knew he might have been kidnapped by Voldemort, and she was still saying nasty things about him behind his back? "She's been trying to push Ginny at me for years: I think she's hoping that I'll marry Ginny before I die, and then they'll get all of my money."

"That's cold." Draco observed, glancing over his shoulder as kids began to filter onto the train. "Come on, we'd better find a compartment - the last thing we need is for one of Dumbledore's little spies to see us together."

They chose an empty compartment and settled in, swapping stories of what had transpired over the summer. They were joined shortly thereafter by Pansy Parkinson, Blaise Zabini, and Theodore Nott, all of whom Harry had come to like over the last two years. It had been Sirius that had urged Harry to drop his prejudices and take a closer look at the Slytherins: Harry suspected that was why Dumbledore had been glad when Sirius was dead, thinking it would make Harry easier to control. If anything, it had had the opposite effect: when he had felt like he was drowning in grief, and most of his own so-called friends were too wrapped up in the Order's lies to help, Harry had turned to his newfound Slytherin friends for comfort. He remembered the long, miserable days spent hiding in the dungeons, the cool blue-green light soothing to his tortured mind. The Slytherins understood the pain of having to live up to a public image when you wanted nothing more than to run away and hide; they knew what it was like to be constantly measured against a set of impossible, perfectionist standards.

He'd only really known Draco before that point, but it turned out that the other three were to Draco what Ron and Hermione were to Harry: a group of friends so tight-knit that they all knew they could tell each other anything, not worrying about the repercussions. All the members of Slytherin house had a sort of mask that they wore in public, and in private they were totally different people. Pansy might have seemed like a giggling, shrieking troll to the rest of the school, but in reality she was a kind young woman with a great sense of humor and a lot of compassion. Theo was a bookworm, but an easygoing one at that, and was also the group joker, which made for a strange but pleasant combination. Blaise was odd: he could be moody sometimes, but was almost always nice and pleasant even when he was feeling down, and he was a lot more intelligent than he usually let on. Even Draco was nothing like what he seemed to the school at large: he was a lot more sensitive than most people thought, and he had a surprisingly wicked sense of humor. He was just as enthusiastic about Quidditch as Harry, but his favorite subject was Potions, so he had taken to helping Harry with his homework at times. He was actually less condescending than Hermione most of the time.

About a half-hour after the train left the station, they were all happily chatting about their summer adventures - and hanging on Harry's every word as he unabashedly recounted his killing of his aunt and uncle - when the compartment door slid open and Daphne Greengrass poked her head in, smiling apologetically.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys, but the Granger girl and Weasley are hunting all over the place looking for Harry. Mind if I point them in this direction?"

Harry looked around at the Slytherins. "You guys don't mind if they join us, do you? They're really not like the rest of the Order - hell, Ron was the one who got me out of the Headquarters without Dumbledore knowing."

Draco, the de facto leader of the little group of Slytherins, shrugged. "Shouldn't be a problem: Granger at least seems pretty open-minded, in spite of everything we've thrown at her over the years."

"I'll let them know where you are, then." Daphne said, retreating. Blaise smiled.

"You know, speaking of Granger, I ran into her in Diagon Alley a few days ago - she really is quite clever, isn't she?"

Harry grinned. "They're already billing her as the smartest witch of our age, so... yeah, she's pretty brilliant. You do know she's Muggleborn, right?"

Blaise snorted and stretched, sprawling languidly across the seat. "Yeah, yeah, I know. Actually, what I really wanted to know... what about Weasley? Are they a couple, or what?"

Harry considered that for a moment. "Well, it's kind of like me and Ginny - everyone expects them to be together, so they've kind of been informally an item. It's not anything serious, though. Besides, Ron's not all that fond of girls in general, if you know what I mean."

A flicker of interest danced in Blaise's dark eyes. "Oh?" he said, his tone curious, but before he could say anything else the door was flung open and Ron and Hermione were there.

"Harry, we - oh!"

Hermione stopped short, clearly startled at seeing a compartment full of Slytherins - and Harry sitting companionably next to _Draco Malfoy_, of all people. Harry grinned and waved at them. "Hey, Ron, 'Mione. Come on in."

Ron blinked. "Uh... what's going on?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Come in and close the door already, Weasley, the whole train doesn't need to know about this."

The two Gryffindors obeyed, Hermione scanning the room as she did so, her expression shrewd. "Is this some kind of ambush or something?"

"No, 'Mione, I told you - Draco and I are friends now." Harry said patiently. "Blaise, Pansy, and Theo are all okay too. I've been here for half an hour already without getting hexed, I think you two are safe."

Still wary, Ron and Hermione sat down across from Harry and Draco, staring at them. Surprisingly enough, it was Ron who bit the bullet first and offered a hand to Draco. "Guess we're on civil terms then, Malfoy."

Draco shook his hand briefly, a hint of a smile flickering across his face. "I suppose so. Harry was just telling us how you bailed him out of a tight spot at the Order headquarters: nicely done. Rather Slytherin of you, really."

Ron flushed slightly. Hermione's expression lost some of its coldness, and she looked around with growing curiosity. "So, you guys are all more or less neutral?"

"Merlin no." Theo said, chuckling as he looked up from _A History Of Magic_. "We're all on the Dark Lord's side - hell, Draco's got the Mark already. That doesn't mean we can't still be normal people."

Pansy giggled at the look of shock on the two Gryffindor's faces. Harry smiled. "A lot of things have changed, 'Mione. I've kind of got an understanding with Voldemort now: as long as I'm not working for the Order and I'm not interfering with his plans, he'll leave me alone. This lot still tries to recruit me constantly, of course, but that's just normal now."

Ron stared at Draco. "You've got the Mark?"

Draco rolled up his left sleeve, revealing the tattoo seared into his arm. "Hurt like hell when I got it, but it's fine now." He chuckled suddenly. "Ironic, isn't it, that I fight with Harry for years and then I take the Mark, and within a month we're friends?"

Ron and Hermione just stared. They'd never heard Draco laugh - they'd heard his mocking imitation of laughter, directed at them as often as not, but they'd never heard him _really_ laugh. Harry smiled and shook his head. "Easy, Dray, they haven't seen you acting human before - you'll spook them."

Draco swatted him in the back of the head. "How many times do I have to say this? _Don't_ call me that!" He was grinning reluctantly, though. Blaise smirked.

"If you two could leave off your flirting for a moment, I believe Harry was about to tell us who's actually on his side and who's in Dumbledoorknob's pocket?" he drawled.

Hermione choked slightly, Ron snorted and looked torn between amusement and horror, Harry burst out laughing and Draco turned beet red. "We are NOT flirting!" the Malfoy heir exploded, shooting a Tickling Charm at the dark-skinned Italian. Blaise ducked the Charm, but succumbed to laughter anyway. Draco settled back into his seat, blushing furiously. "Hell, Blaise, I'm not even gay!"

"No, but you _are_ kind of cute, Dray." Harry said, snickering. Draco jerked away from him so fast he nearly fell off his seat, his voice rising into a startled yelp.

"_Harry_!"

"Oh relax, Draco, I'm just teasing." Harry said, shaking his head in amusement. "Merlin, I can't believe you're really that bashful."

"Malfoys are _not_ bashful." Draco spluttered, straightening and smoothing out his jacket. Harry smirked.

"Yeah, last time I checked, they don't blush either." As if to underscore Harry's point, Draco flushed again. The young Savior grinned and punched him lightly in the shoulder. "See? There are a lot of things Malfoy's _don't do_."

"Oh, shut up." Draco muttered, while Pansy giggled uncontrollably.

"Gee, Dray, did you get a sunburn over the summer?" she chirped, batting her eyelashes at him playfully. Draco rolled his eyes.

"If you're all quite finished..."

"Not by half, but we'll take a break." Theo said, laughing as he closed the textbook and set it aside. "Granger, you all right?"

Hermione had turned a peculiar shade, somewhere between pink and green, and looked like her eyes were about to pop out of her head. "Just fine." she managed, a bit wild-eyed. "How long has... _this _been going on?" She gestured helplessly around the compartment, mostly in Harry and Draco's direction.

"Since Sirius died." Harry said, his smile softening as he looked around. "You know Dumbledore told everyone not to have any contact with me for a while, so I started hanging out with Draco more, and everyone just short of drifted together. It's nice not having to watch everything I say about our not-so-beloved ex-Headmaster, that's for sure."

"Speaking of which, is your dad planning on turning the school into a Death Eater factory?" Ron asked Draco nervously. Draco laughed.

"Certainly not. Conscripts don't make very good soldiers, you know." Seeing the bewilderment on their faces, Draco sighed. "Contrary to the rumors Dumbledore likes to spread, the Dark Lord never _forces_ anyone to join him. We all signed up voluntarily. If he forced people to join, he'd have people betraying him left, right, and center. We aren't all rabid Muggle-haters either, actually, and we only kill when we have to."

"What about Bellatrix?" Hermione asked, frowning. "She killed Sirius, for goodness sake!"

Draco winced. "Ah - Aunt Bella's kind of a special case. She hasn't been quite right since she got back from Azkaban, and - well, she isn't like that most of the time. In day-to-day life she's quite nice, really. She just snaps every now and then, and she's like a completely different person."

Hermione nodded slowly. "I've heard about that happening to people who spend too long around the Dementors. It's sort of like they develop a second personality, one that can withstand the Dementors, that periodically overpowers their primary personality when they're really stressed."

"Something like that." Draco agreed, nodding. "She really does feel bad about that day at the Ministry - Black was her cousin, after all, they didn't completely hate each other and she certainly didn't want to kill him."

"I blame Dumbledore for that anyway." Harry said, his voice going a little cold. "He was the one who brought Sirius to Ministry." He sighed, then shook his head. "Anyway, as I was saying earlier - Luna Lovegood, Neville Longbottom, and Dean Thomas are all on our side. Seamus Finnigan's working for Dumbledore, though. Ron, what about your family?"

Ron grimaced. "Mom and Ginny have gone completely 'round the bed, mate. Dad's caved too. Fred and George are solid, obviously, but Bill and Fleur are on Dumbledore's side. Charlie's good, though: I wrote to him in June, and he said he thinks Dumbledore's gone loopy."

Harry nodded. "Good. What about Percy?"

Ron shrugged. "Hell if I know, mate. I'm not sure if he's even noticed there's a war on - he's busy with the crusade against those inferior cauldron bottoms, you know."

The three Gryffindors laughed, remembering the summer of the Quidditch World Cup and the infamous cauldron essay. Harry shook his head. "Well, we'll just have to watch our step if we run into him. What about the DA?"

"The _what_?" Draco asked, baffled, but Harry hushed him. Hermione nodded. "We've got a few people still. Hannah Abbott's still with us, and Demelza Robins has signed on. Susan Bones, Terry Boot, Lavender Brown, and the Creevey brothers are still in as well."

Harry groaned. "Oh, Merlin, no. Tell me Colin has gotten rid of that camera!"

Ron grinned. "You're out of luck there, mate, he's already talking about getting pictures of your next duel with You-Know-Who."

Draco smiled. "That's the little guy with the camera that got petrified in second year?"

"Yeah, that's him." Harry sighed. "At least tell me Cho's not still in the DA. I really don't want to go through that again."

"She opted out." Hermione admitted. "I didn't even ask Marietta, for obvious reasons. Michael Corner's out, too. Justin Finch-Fletchley's in, though, so's Anthony Goldstein. Ernie Macmillan and Parvati and Padma Patil are on our side as well." She drew another deep breath and added, "Out of everyone who's already left, Lee Jordan, Alicia Spinnet, Angelina Johnson, Oliver Wood, and Katie Bell are in."

Harry smiled. "That's almost the entire original DA. Good. If it comes right down to it, we might actually have a fighting chance."

"Blimey." Theo said, staring. "I didn't know that many people liked you, Harry. How do you know so many people from so many houses?"

Harry glanced at Draco. "You remember in fifth year, all those wild rumors that were going around about Dumbledore's Army?"

Draco's eyes widened. "You're kidding. You mean Umbridge was on the right track?"

"Yeah. I decided if she wasn't going to teach us, we'd have to teach ourselves." Harry said with a shrug. Ron chuckled.

"The look on her face when she realized that the DA was real... man, that was priceless."

Hermione smiled. "Dumbledore took the blame for it, but it was all Harry's idea. We all learned a ton that year, really advanced stuff. Harry even taught us all how to cast a Patronus, and even I hadn't figured out how to do that yet!"

Blaise sat straight up and stared at Harry. "You can cast a Patronus?"

Harry smiled a bit shyly. "Yeah - it's not really that hard once you know how."

Draco appeared to waver for a minute, then he asked hesitantly, "You think you could teach me?"

Harry grinned at him. "Sure. I could probably teach all of you: I've got a whole bunch of books on Defense magic, Sirius got them for me for Christmas." He paused, then looked back at Ron and Hermione. "That's not actually a bad idea, guys - maybe we should reform the DA for real, start meeting again. I've learned a lot since then, and it wouldn't hurt to be prepared. Forget Voldemort, we might end up having to fight the Order sometime in the near future."

Hermione nodded vigorously. "That's a great idea, Harry!" She pulled a fat golden coin out of her pocket. "You still have yours, right?"

"Yeah, it's right here." Harry said, digging out the enchanted Galleon. Catching the fascinated looks of the Slytherins, he held it up. "Hermione spelled these so that the numbers around the edge change to show the date and time of the next meeting, and they get hot whenever they change. We'll get all of you some - oh, and we'll need a new cursed paper to sign."

Hermione giggled and Pansy stared at her in a mixture of horror and deepest respect. "You mean that girl that they said sold you out, that Marietta - _you_ caused that horrible thing on her face?"

Hermione blushed slightly. "Yes. I had everyone sign an agreement not to tell Umbridge, and it was hexed."

Theo stared at her in awe. "That's bloody brilliant! Why aren't you in Slytherin?"

Hermione blushed more and Blaise smirked. "Oh, didn't you get the message, Theo? _Slytherins_ don't blush!"

They all dissolved into laughter. Harry grinned to himself and glanced out the window, watching the forested landscape glide smoothly by. Despite the Order's betrayal, things were definitely looking up.


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's Note: Another nice, long chapter for all my delightful readers - just twenty-four hours after the last one, too. That's how delighted I am that my readers are enjoying this story so much! I have gotten requests for more smut, and so... ask and ye shall receive, remember that! _

_A.N.2: Well, it seems I have reached an impasse. There's only so many times old Voldie can pop up in Harry's dreams, so... it's time for a new strategy. It's going to be an interesting semester, folks!_

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing. _

_Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own._

_A.N.3: I have to thank my reviewers for this inspiration, actually. It was while I was reading all the lovely requests for more Harry/Tom action that this plan came to me. Thank you for that, dear readers. Also, no one except for the Golden Trio, certain members of the staff of Hogwarts, and some of the Slytherins know that Voldemort was once Tom Riddle: that's a very well-kept secret. _

As they were climbing into the carriages that would take them to the school, all of the newly formed group of Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same carriage, Harry heard a voice from behind him.

"Hello, Harry!"

He paused and turned, then a smile broke out across his face. "Hey, Luna! How have you been?"

"Oh, I've been good." she said with a dazzling if somewhat vague smile. "I ran into a flight of Norkleraiths this morning, they told me that you were planning on reforming the DA."

The Slytherins looked torn between amusement and disbelief. Harry grinned. "Yeah, I am. You up for another round?"

"Of course." Luna said happily. She smiled dreamily at the Slytherins. "I'll see you up at the school, Harry..."

"Sure thing, Luna." Harry said wryly, climbing into the carriage. Draco stared at him.

"Seriously, you're friends with her?"

"She's not nearly as insane as she acts." Harry said. "She's really quite smart, but she attributes things she deduces to made-up creatures like Wrackspurts and things. Really, she was just asking if I was going to reform the DA because she guessed I might, not because she ran into - whatever the hell she said they were."

Theo shook his head. "You have some very strange friends, Harry - present company excluded." he added quickly, seeing Ron glaring at him.

They were met in the Entrance Hall by Professor McGonagall. She looked more relaxed than Harry had ever seen her before: she was even smiling a little. Many had expected that she would become Headmistress after Dumbledore was removed, but if the rumors were to be believed she had declined the offer. Whatever her reasons, it seemed she was happy with her decision: she didn't even glare once as she ushered them into the Great Hall.

As the students settled in at their various tables, Harry looked curiously up at the staff table. Lucius Malfoy was sitting in the Headmaster's chair: he was wearing robes of deep green that were fairly simple, yet tasteful and clearly expensive. Nothing like the garish robes that Dumbledore had favored, that was for sure. The other teachers looked unchanged: it did seem, however, that Snape was glowering a little less than usual. The atmosphere in the hall was no less cheerful than it had been when Dumbledore was Headmaster, and Harry smiled to himself. This might turn out to be the best thing that had happened to Hogwarts in a long time.

One of the people at the staff table sat a little back in the shadows, a black cowl pulled up over their head, their face lost in shadow. Harry stared, intrigued. Beside him, Hermione whispered, "That must be the new Defense Against The Dark Arts teacher. I wonder who we've got this year?"

Slughorn had suffered an unfortunate mishap last year, involving Neville Longbottom and a Transforming Draught, and Snape had been relegated back into the office of Potions Master. Harry shook his head. "Let's just hope it's not some horrible Ministry official. I don't think our new Headmaster would let that happen, though."

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could speak Lucius Malfoy was standing and a hush fell across the hall. The Headmaster smiled, looking over the assembled students with a look of pride.

"Welcome, one and all, to another year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. As I am sure you are all aware, your former Headmaster Albus Dumbledore, has been accused of several serious crimes and will not be returning to the school. Given the length of time he has taught here, I understand that this is a big change for all of you: I assure you, however, I shall do my best to lead this school forward into an age of success and prosperity."

Harry would probably have found this speech rather pretentious in the past, but he had learned to see past the carefully cultivated Pureblood mask, and he could here the sincerity underlying Lucius's words. There was a smattering of applause through the hall, surprisingly sincere. Lucius smiled, then gestured along the table to the hooded figure.

"On that note, I would like to introduce a dear friend of mine, and your new Defense Against The Dark Arts Professor: Tom Riddle!"

The figure reached up and pushed back the cowl: it was indeed Tom Riddle, devilishly handsome and grinning like the cat that got into the cream, his silver-grey eyes sparkling in the torchlight.

Harry choked on the air in his lungs and nearly keeled over in shock. An excited buzz had erupted throughout the hall: he was dimly aware of Hermione grabbing his arm to steady him, but he didn't hear her frightened inquiry. He could only stare, riveted, and the Dark Lord who was sitting so calmly at the staff table.

Riddle must have felt his gaze, because he turned to look straight at him, and their eyes met. For an instant, it seemed as though his eyes were drawing Harry in, luring him closer: then the spell was broken by the sardonic smile that quirked Riddle's lips, and he _winked_ at Harry.

Harry's jaw nearly dropped. Smirking, Riddle looked away toward Lucius. The Headmaster looked quite pleased with himself as he gestured for quiet from the students. His gesture went momentarily ignored, however. Next to Harry, Ron looked over at him with horror written across his face. "Blimey, mate, is that really...?"

"Yeah. That's him." Harry said, feeling strangely breathless. He could still feel those silver eyes burning into him, even though Riddle was no longer looking at him. He shivered a little. Hermione looked on the verge of panic.

"What's he doing here at the _school_? Are the Death Eaters planning an attack? I thought you said Headmaster Malfoy wasn't planning on doing something like this?"

"I don't think he's here on Dark Lord business, 'Mione." Harry said softly. He wasn't sure how he knew, but he could sense it nonetheless: there was no threat in Riddle's presence at the moment. His scar hadn't given so much as a twinge. "I think he's here to teach, for real."

Ron stared at him as though he'd grown a second head. "_Teach_? Are you mental? Why in Merlin's name would he do that?"

"That's what he wanted in the first place, Ron." Harry said, remembering those seemingly endless excursions into the Pensieve. "That's why the position's cursed, because Dumbledore wouldn't hire him, so he put a spell on it. I wonder if that'll finally lift, now that he's here..."

Before his friends could say anything else, Lucius finally succeeded in restoring order. He was still smiling. "Thank you for your enthusiasm. I have little else to say, save that the goal of this year is inter-house unity. A house divided cannot stand: the same is true of this school. In these troubled times, we must put aside petty differences of Sorting, and concentrate on our common foes. To that end, I am dissolving the rule that dictates students must sit at their own house tables during mealtimes. Please, feel free to mingle at will: we are all on the same side here."

Harry firmly suppressed a grin: he rather suspected Lucius was referring to Dumbledore, not Voldemort. He glanced over at the Slytherin table: Draco flashed him a quick grin and mouthed, _Didn't see that one coming, did you?_

Harry rolled his eyes and Draco smirked. His speech finished, Lucius resumed his seat, and the food appeared on the tables. It was only a matter of minutes before the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff tables were mingling, but though a few Hufflepuffs migrated to the Gryffindor table no one even approached the Slytherins.

"Mental, if you ask me." Seamus Finnigan was saying pompously. "I mean, who in their right mind's going to sit with the Slytherins?"

Harry grinned as a thought struck him. "I think it's time you set an example as Head Girl, 'Mione." he murmured, piling his plate with food and standing. Hermione beamed.

"Excellent idea, Harry." She, too, stood: Ron groaned.

"Is this headed where I think it is?" When Harry and Hermione both grinned, he sighed and grabbed his own plate. Seeing their surprise, he shrugged.

"Malfoy's not half bad, really. My only other choice is to stay here with them." He jerked his head slightly, indicating the next group over from theirs - Seamus, Lavender, and Dean. Dean was tolerable - the others, not so much.

"Right." Harry said, grinning, and they headed across the hall.

Draco had seen them coming and was grinning from ear to ear as he and his friends shifted along the bench, leaving room for the three rebel Gryffindors. A shocked murmur ran through the hall: Harry ignored them all entirely and sat down next to Draco, smirking at the effect his actions had produced.

"That ought to give them something to gossip about for the next week or so." Harry said, satisfied. Draco chuckled.

"I thought you hated being the spotlight?" he said, turning his attention back on his dinner. Harry shrugged.

"Better to have them talking about this than pestering me about the Dursleys." he said philosophically. Pansy giggled.

"Good call. Hey, Hermione, aren't you Head Girl? Don't you think you're setting a terrible example, fraternizing with the enemy?"

Hermione smiled. "I've been saying that we should be working on inter-house unity for years now." She paused, looked around, and dropped her voice. "Did any of you guys know about - our new teacher?"

A hush fell over their section. Theo shook his head. "No. None of us had any idea."

Ron glanced at the staff table and shuddered. "Blimey, that's going to be weird - Defense Against the Dark Arts with You-Know-Who himself."

"Can't be that weird, we've already had a Death Eater for a teacher." Harry reasoned, then found himself the target of two very confused stares. "What?"

"Why are you being so calm about this?" Hermione asked warily. "That's You-Know-Who up there, Harry. The wizard who's been trying to kill you since you were born. Shouldn't you be a little more worried about this?"

"I'm getting kind of used to people wanting me dead, 'Mione, it's not that big a deal anymore." Harry said dryly. "Besides, I told you, we've got a deal. I'm not interfering, so... I'm just going to pretend he's just another new teacher and leave it at that. Besides, he's probably a really good teacher - better than Umbridge, anyway."

Blaise snorted. "I don't think anyone could be worse than Umbridge."

The conversation devolved into a series of insults against the Ministry's hopeless bureaucracy. Halfway through dinner, Harry dared a look at the staff table again. Lucius Malfoy was beaming in their general direction, clearly happy that his inter-house unity plan was getting off to such a good start. The individual that really caught Harry's eye, though, was the newly appointed Professor Riddle.

He was staring at Harry, silver eyes thoughtful, a small smile playing over his lips. There was something almost intimate in that smile, and Harry felt a slight shiver run through him. Their eyes locked for a few seconds, while Harry tried futilely to decipher the expression in Riddle's molten eyes: then the Dark Lord merely smiled wider and looked away again, leaving Harry puzzled and more curious than ever.

Lost in thought, Harry didn't even notice that the ringing that had plagued his mind for so long was silent at last.

When they got to the dormitory that night, Harry was almost asleep on his feet. He pulled Hermione aside for a moment, though. "Listen, 'Mione, there's something I need you to do."

"Sure, Harry. What do you need?" she asked, stifling a yawn.

"Staring tomorrow, I need you to try and figure out which of the professors we can still trust. Don't bother with To- um, Professor Riddle. Concentrate on McGonagall and Snape."

"Alright. I'll start dropping hints in Transfiguration." Hermione said, smiling tiredly before she disappeared off to bed. Harry, too, retired to his bed: he was so exhausted he fell asleep in minutes. No dreams plagued his sleep, but in the back of his mind, he wondered how long that would last.

At breakfast that morning they once again settled themselves at the Slytherin table. How she had found the time Harry had no idea, but Hermione passed out newly enchanted Galleons to their Slytherin friends. "First meeting's tonight at seven o'clock, in the Room of Requirement." she murmured, keeping her voice low. "We'll need to choose a new name then. Can you all make it?"

"We'll be there." Draco promised, slipping the Galleon into his pocket. He then cast a quick glance down his timetable. "Whew. Charms, History of Magic, Potions, and Arithmancy all in one day. I guess they aren't going to go easy on us. What about you guys?"

Harry looked down at his own timetable - and promptly choked on a mouthful of toast. Ron slapped him on the back. "Easy there, mate. Problem?"

"We've got DADA first period!" Harry spluttered, coughing.

"WHAT?" Ron snatched the timetable and stared at in horror. "Bloody hell! What is McGonagall playing at?"

Something stirred in Harry's memory, and he froze, staring into space. "Ron... I think she knows."

"Knows what?" Ron asked, looking up, baffled.

"She was in school with him - I think she knows who Riddle is!" Harry whispered, looking up at the staff table in shock. "When I was talking to Slughorn last year, he mentioned they were in the same class: I forgot until now..."

"She might know him from school, but I doubt she knows he's the Dark Lord." Draco murmured. "She would never stand by and let _him_ teach at Hogwarts."

Hermione shook her head. "No point speculating, is there?" She finished her scrambled eggs and rose, pulling her bulging bookbag onto her shoulder. "We should go. The last thing we want to do is be late for _his_ class."

Despite his bravado at the feast last night, Harry had rarely felt as nervous as he did walking into the DADA classroom. It wasn't quite as bad as when he was waiting to face the Hungarian Horntail in the Triwizard Tournament - he _knew_ the dragon wanted to kill him, he only _feared_ that Riddle might have the same intention - but it was still pretty bad.

At Hermione's insistence, for reasons unknown, they sat in the front row. Harry usually sat in the front row anyway in DADA because it was his favorite class, but in this instance he would have preferred the back.

The class was buzzing with excitement when the door opened and Professor Riddle swept in with a swirl of velvety black robes. Instantly, silence fell: Harry gulped and sank a little farther back into his seat. Riddle swept to the front of the class, turned, and surveyed them with a small smirk playing over his face. A tantalizing memory of kissing those full, curving lips strayed through Harry's mind, but he shoved it hastily into the back of his mind and locked the door on it. Now was definitely _not_ the time.

Riddle's voice was even smoother and more enchanting in real life than in Harry's dreams. "Welcome, class. I have been informed that this position has changed hands six times in the last six years. As such, I am sure your education has been somewhat fragmented - a situation no doubt exacerbated by the Ministry's interference two years ago."

Instantly a murmur of agreement swelled through the room, and Riddle smiled indulgently. Harry felt a tingle run up his spine at that easy smile: he'd never imagined that Riddle would smile at all, much less with such warmth. He also felt the smallest flicker of jealousy, though: he didn't want Riddle smiling like that at whole class. Riddle should only smile at _him._

Once again, Harry quickly squashed the thought. If he kept this up he'd never live through the class. Not to mention there was a slim chance that Riddle could hear what he was thinking.

Riddle drew his wand from within his sleeve and waved it lazily: a thick stack of parchment appeared on each student's desk. "If there is to be any hope of actually teaching you something, I need to know how much you've already covered. Fill out the answer to these quizzes as best you can, and by next class I'll know what we still need to go over. Begin."

The next hour was bordering on hell for Harry. Riddle spent the class stalking gracefully among the students, answering queries and clarifying questions. Just the sound of his rich, melodious voice was driving Harry to distraction. Having Hermione hissing in his ear about various topics that she'd read about in _Hogwarts: A History_ wasn't helping either. It was hard to concentrate on werewolves when she was rattling on about the goblins for all she was worth.

Harry chanced a glance at Riddle. The professor had just finished answering a question from Lavender Brown: the girl was practically drooling over him, goggle-eyed and fawning. Harry clenched his jaw so hard his teeth hurt. Yes, Riddle was gorgeous - there was no other word for it - but that didn't give_ Lavender Brown_ of all people the right to be looking at him like a freshly cooked steak! He stared blankly down at the page in front of him, his insides tying themselves into tight little knots of jealousy.

As was usual for their first few days back, Hermione seemed unable to shut up. "... and then, during the Goblin Wars, Gobclaw the Bloodthirsty-"

"Miss Granger?"

"_Meep!"_ Hermione broke off with a gasp, her eyes widening to the size of saucers as she looked up to see Tom Riddle standing directly in front of her, amusement dancing in his silver eyes. "Pro - professor?" she said weakly.

Riddle looked deeply amused, but it wasn't as sadistic as the cruel mockery Harry remembered from their previous encounters. "Perhaps if you could confine your explanations to the topics at hand?"

"Yes, sir." she whispered, looking rather shell-shocked. Riddle turned, and his eyes connected with Harry's for a moment. One corner of his mouth quirked up, then he was gone, moving away amongst the class once more.

Ron looked faintly green. "Merlin, that was scary. He's bloody terrifying even when he's acting nice!" the redhead hissed, darting a fearful glance at the Dark Lord. Harry grimaced.

"I think we're safe, but we'd better not push our luck all the same." he muttered, shooting a glance at the clock on the wall, just a heartbeat before the bell rang.

With a sense of mingled relief and disappointment, Harry put his quill away and left his completed quiz on the teacher's desk, along with all the others. As he was moving toward the door, however, he heard Riddle's soft voice. "I'd like a brief word with you, Mr. Potter."

Instantly, Ron and Hermione drew closer on either side of Harry, hands drifting closer to their wands. Harry pushed their arms back down, though. "It's fine." he hissed, then added in a louder tone, "Of course, Professor."

He turned to face Riddle and waited until the other students had filtered out. Riddle waited until the door had shut, then a wicked smile broke out over his face. "Well, I see Gryffindor courage is not just a legend after all. Your little friends know who I am, and yet they were quite willing to draw their wands against me to defend you."

"That's what friends do." Harry said quietly, locking stares with Riddle once more. "I've done the same for them plenty of times. How many people know who you really are?"

"Enough." Riddle said softly. "Lucius, Severus, Minerva. That oaf Hagrid. However many of your friends you've told."

Anger flashed through Harry, and he took a step forward, glaring at Riddle. "Don't talk about Hagrid that way. You framed him for something he didn't do, and you ruined his life in the process. He never did anything to you."

Something changed in Riddle's expression, and he glanced away. "I never had any particular malice toward Hagrid, you know. He was merely... convenient. It was almost too easy to persuade people that he was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets." He glanced sharply at Harry. "Incidentally, I don't think many students would have known that Phoenix tears are the only known antidote to Basilisk venom." He tapped the stack of quizzes with one slender finger and raised his eyebrow. "Something you wanted to mention?"

"I killed the Basilisk. In my second year." Harry said quietly. "Destroyed one of your Horcruxes in the process - the diary. That's how I knew what you looked like, before..."

"Ah." Riddle actually looked impressed. "A Basilisk and a Horcrux, all in one day? I knew there was a reason Dumbledore kept you around." He tilted his head, studying Harry curiously. "I assume you've figured out what your beloved Headmaster's plans entailed?"

"Driving me to suicide?" Harry said bitterly. "Yeah, I got there eventually. Manipulative old bastard."

Riddle chuckled, then moved with the speed and grace of a serpent: one moment he was leaning against his desk, the next, he had Harry pinned against the wall. He smirked down at the stunned teenager and leaned forward, his breath hot on Harry's skin as he murmured, "What a waste that would have been, too. You have an exceptional spirit, Harry: I could use someone like you. You would be a most valuable ally..."

Something clicked in Harry's mind, and his breath hitched in his throat. "You son of a bitch... you're trying to seduce me, aren't you?"

Riddle pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, silver eyes gleaming happily. "Bingo." Before the stunned Harry could react, he pressed his hand to the back of the younger wizard's neck and pulled him forward into a searing kiss.

Harry froze in shock, then melted. He couldn't fight this: Riddle was too good, the pleasure too tempting. Through a haze of desire, though, a thought occurred to Harry: he couldn't resist, but there might be another way to fight...

With a fierceness that surprised even Harry himself, he returned the kiss with all his might, fighting Riddle for dominance. His hands found their way into Riddle's dark hair of their own accord, his tongue moving against Riddle's in a war for control: he was distantly aware of a low, throaty chuckle from Riddle, then he was pinned back against the wall with all of Riddle's strength as the older wizard thrust their hips together, tearing an involuntary moan from Harry's lips.

Riddle broke the kiss, laughing breathlessly as he trailed soft kisses down the side of Harry's neck, nipping lightly at the teen's pale skin. "That's more like it, Harry... you didn't think I came here _entirely_ just to teach, did you? I don't intend to let you get away, my little serpent. You're _**mine**_." Parseltongue had never sounded better than it did to Harry just then.

He mirrored Riddle's laughter and, daringly, bit the side of the older wizard's neck lightly. Riddle let out a soft hissing noise that made desire shoot like lightning through Harry's veins, and claimed his mouth again in a vicious, bruising kiss. It was some time before they broke apart again, both of them panting for breath, their lips swollen and faces flushed. Harry grinned up at his former enemy and purred, "You want me, Tom, you're going to have to win me." With a surprising turn of speed, he slipped out of Riddle's arms and snatched his bookbag from where it had fallen. "Now, I need to go, or I'm going to be late for my next class. Granted I usually end up being a few minutes late to every class, but it's the first day back, and I really should be making a good impression this year."

Riddle's silver eyes flashed red for a heartbeat, but then he smiled. "Very well, my little serpent - but this isn't over. I _will_ have you, sooner or later - and it will be sooner, if I have anything to say about it."

Harry threw him a last, teasing grin, then bolted. He raced down the corridor toward the Transfiguration classroom, heart still pounding: he could hardly believe that had really just happened. That he had just _kissed Tom Marvolo Riddle_. Surely this had to be some kind of fantastic daydream. Dream or reality, Harry felt as though he were walking on air all the way to Transfiguration.

He paused just outside the classroom, trying futilely to flatten his hair - which was even more mussed up than usual, thanks to Riddle running his hands through it - then hurried in just as McGonagall was calling the class to order. She eyed Harry suspiciously, but only told him to sit down. He did so, sliding into his seat between Ron and Hermione, unable to keep the elated grin off his face. Both his friends stared at him, but they didn't get a chance to say anything before McGonagall spoke.

"Today, we will begin a difficult branch of Transfiguration - transfiguring one living creature into another type of living creature. You will start by turning a beetle into a butterfly."

McGonagall passed out fat, shiny scarab beetles to every student, taught them the incantation, and left them to it. Harry looked down at his own beetle: it was a glossy red, that reminded him of a pair of glowing scarlet eyes. His grin grew even wider.

"Um, mate, are you okay?" Ron whispered nervously, glancing around to make sure McGonagall wasn't nearby. "You look... weirdly happy, if you know what I mean."

"You do look a little strange." Hermione said, prodding gently at her beetle as she murmured the spell: the insect grew a bit thinner, but otherwise did not change. "What did he want?"

Harry beamed. "I don't think I've ever been better, actually." he said with complete honesty. "I also don't think you really want to know what happened, though." Looking back down at the beetle, he almost giggled aloud as memories flooded through him. He couldn't remember feeling this happy before in his life: even finding out that Sirius was his Godfather and that he still had that much family hadn't been quite this dizzyingly joyous. He muttered the spell and waved his wand lazily.

The beetle thinned, stretched, and morphed into a dazzling scarlet butterfly that lifted off of the desk and started fluttering in languid circles around his head.

Gasps ran through the class, and even the usually impassive McGonagall looked impressed. "Well done, Mr. Potter." she said, staring at him for a moment. She hesitated, looking as though she might say something else, then she shook her head and turned back to helping another student.

Ron gaped at Harry. "Blimey, mate, how did you do that?"

Harry grinned. "I don't really know, Ron - but you know what? I think this year's is going to be a very good year after all."

...

_There, happy now? More Harry/Tom, for your reading pleasure! Next chapter: the meeting of the DA! Or rather, whatever the DA becomes. They can't very well stay Dumbledore's Army, considering he's now their primary enemy. Stay tuned for further developments!_


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's Note: Well, this chapter's just a little shorter than the last two, but it was up quickly, and I'm sure all my readers will enjoy Harry and Tom's interaction *cough-foreplay-cough*. I love this charismatic, seductive Tom that I seem to be channeling: he's so much fun to write! _

_A.N.2: I'm sure some of my readers have noticed that Harry seems suspiciously sane at the moment. Trust me, it won't last forever. _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing. _

_Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own._

Promptly at six forty-five, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were in the seventh-floor corridor that led to the Room of Requirement. Draco and his Slytherin entourage were there moments later: they'd agreed to meet there early, to have a chance to settle in before the others showed up.

Harry called up the same room where they'd trained last year: Draco spent some moments just staring around, clearly impressed. He was the only Slytherin who had been in the Room before. "This place is really something. I always had a hell of a time trying to get the Room to listen to me - I don't think it likes me very much."

"It's just temperamental." Harry said absently, scanning the bookshelves. He smiled in triumph and pulled a slender leatherbound book off the back of one shelf, brushing the dust from the cover. "Lesson plans." he explained, in answer to Draco's curious look. "Thanks to Umbridge we never covered all the material I had planned. We'll do a review of some things, to brush up on the parts that were more difficult and give you lot a chance to catch up. I think we'll start with Patronuses, actually: I seem to recall that Hannah never did learn that Charm properly. Or Ernie, for that matter."

"I'm going to need a refresher on that too, Harry." Ron said a bit sheepishly. "When you said you have to practice all the time to keep from forgetting, you weren't kidding. It's really hard to concentrate like that."

When the others started to filter in, Ron and Hermione were seated in their customary places at the head of the circle. Harry was standing, as were the Slytherins. A lot of curious glances were directed at Draco and the others, but no one said anything, either positive or negative. They knew Harry would explain.

When everyone had arrived at was seated, Hermione commenced the meeting officially and Harry started to speak. "First, I want to thank everyone for coming. After the fiasco with Umbridge, I wouldn't have blamed anyone who shied a bit."

Ernie Macmillan puffed out his chest. "Come off it, Harry, you know we wouldn't back out on you! We beat the toad, we're not chicken!" There was a murmur of enthusiastic approval: Harry grinned.

"Nice to see you've still got the old fighting spirit, Ernie. Now, I'm sure you all remember that one of the basic precepts of the DA has always been acceptance. From the start we've had Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws working side-by-side." Harry gestured to Draco, Theo, Blaise, and Pansy with a flourish. "As of tonight, we have representatives of Slytherin as well."

There was a stunned silence, then Luna piped up. "Oh, that's wonderful. The Blibbering Humdingers were a little upset that the DA was out of balance, you know: now that won't be a problem anymore."

Several people cracked up at that. Harry chuckled. "An excellent point, Luna. So: as of this moment, Draco, Pansy, Theo, and Blaise are officially members of the DA. Any objections?"

The Slytherins braced themselves, but to their shock, no one protested. Terry Boot spoke. "Who gives a damn what House they're in? This is a defense group, not a who's-more-popular-with-the-crazy-former-headmaster contest. Welcome to the club."

There was a lot of laughter at that. Draco blinked, and Pansy was doing a fair imitation of a landed trout. Harry chuckled. "Well, that's settled. You lot can sit down now."

Still dazed, they did so. Harry settled himself between Ron and Draco and drew a deep breath. "Alright, next order of business - we need a new name. In case anyone here hasn't heard or didn't believe the Prophet, yes, Dumbledore left me with the Dursleys knowing they were abusing me. And yes, he did actually kidnap me and was planning to get me sent to Azkaban to 'discipline' me. So no, we're not keeping the name 'Dumbledore's Army'. Does anyone have any suggestions?"

There was a moment of silence, then Neville spoke, though somewhat shyly. "First I think we need to nail down what our goals are, Harry. I mean, we picked the name 'Dumbledore's Army' because we were on Dumbledore's side against Umbridge: who's side are we on now?"

Harry hesitated for a long time, wondering how much he could safely say. Finally he said slowly, "I think at the moment, we're on our own side. We can't trust anyone from the Order of the Phoenix anymore, but... you all know there are extenuating circumstances where Voldemort and I are concerned. I think at the moment, it's safe to say that the Order is actually the bigger threat."

Harry had told the entire DA about his connection with Voldemort last year. They had been understandably astonished, but no one had ever said a word against him because of it - not even Ernie, who had once firmly believed that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin.

A lot of people looked quite startled at Harry's declaration, but there was no accusation. Finally, Ernie decided to bite the bullet. "You said back in fifth year that there was a chance that someday, you might consider - how did you put it - _changing your role in the war_. Is this that day?"

Harry nodded slowly. "I think it might be, Ernie. I haven't decided anything for certain yet, but... Dumbledore's goals aren't what he says they are. I find myself leaning a little more to the Dark now, and I know that if it comes right down to it, I'd join Voldemort before I'd go back to fighting for Albus Dumbledore. I'll understand if any of you want to leave because of that."

Hannah Abbott spoke for them all. "We're on whatever side you are, Harry. You'd have to have a damn good reason to trust Voldemort: if you make that choice, we'll follow."

Everyone in the room nodded agreement. Harry swallowed against the sudden lump in his throat, his green eyes growing a little misty. "Thank you. All of you." He drew a deep breath. "I guess that answers your question, Neville."

Hermione's eyes lit up suddenly, a sure sign that she had gotten an idea. "I know! How about the Order of the Chimaera?"

Ron stared at her blankly. "What the hell is a chimaera?"

"It's a magical creature - a crossbreed of a lion and a serpent." Theo interjected, smiling slightly. "A living fusion of opposites. That's rather brilliant, Granger."

Hermione blushed. "Thank you." She looked at him thoughtfully for a moment, and Harry had a sudden flash of insight. He suppressed a grin. Lucius Malfoy's plans for inter-house unity just might turn out to be an unprecedented success.

"That could be a really good name." Justin Finch-Fletchley said thoughtfully. "We could even refer to it as just the Order for short: that way everyone would think we were talking about the Order of the Barbecued Chicken and not the Chimaera."

Draco laughed so hard he nearly choked. "The Order of the _what_?" he gasped, clutching at his ribs.

Demelza Robins, a relatively new member, beamed. "We came up with that when we heard what Dumbledore did to Harry. Pretty good, hmm?"

There were fervent nods of assent from all quarters. Hermione looked around. "All in favor of the Order of the Chimaera?"

"AYE!" resounded through the room. She grinned.

"Good." With a wave of her wand, she conjured a sheet of parchment: the words _Order of the Chimaera_ wrote themselves across the top in long, curling letters. She smiled around. "Now, I'm sure you all remember what happened to Marietta Edgecombe - and for the newcomers, trust me, it wasn't pretty. So I think you'd better know that by signing this, you're more or less swearing loyalty to Harry. Anyone who tries to sell us out to Dumbledore or the Barbecued Chicken is going to get a lot worse than a few zits, too. Clear?"

There was a lot of apprehensive nodding. The parchment floated around the room, with every single person signing their names. Watching, Harry felt a little overwhelmed: it was deeply touching, to know that so many people were still on his side, despite Dumbledore's betrayal. When they had all signed, the parchment tacked itself to the wall, and Harry cleared his throat. "I think we should also agree that nothing of what happens here is spoken of beyond the walls of this room. Dumbledore has spies everywhere: we don't know who we can trust, or who could be listening."

"You would have made a brilliant Slytherin." Draco said approvingly. Harry grinned.

"Actually, the Sorting Hat was going to put me in Slytherin, but I hadn't heard very good things about you lot and I asked to be put in Gryffindor instead. Just as well, I suppose: if I'd been in Slytherin, Dumbledore probably would have had me killed that first year." He looked back at the assembled students - no longer Dumbledore's army, but his own. "We're going to start with a review of some of the charms and jinxes that we covered in two years ago, including the Patronus Charm."

For the next two hours, they went over the Impediment Jinx, the Shield Charm, and the Stunning Spell. Halfway through, Susan Bones asked a very good question. "Harry, if we're not strictly on the Light's side anymore... are we going to stick to just Light spells?"

There was a hush as everyone waited for his answer. Harry shook his head. "That's a really good question, Susan - and the answer is no. People like Dumbledore push the distinction between Light and Dark magic to try and control people's actions, but there's no true difference. Any Light spell can be used to harm, and so-called Dark spells can be used for a good cause. Later in the year, we'll be covering quite a few hexes and curses that are definitely labeled as Dark."

Anthony Goldstein stared at him. "Not to cast aspersions, Harry, but how exactly do you even know any Dark spells?"

Harry grinned. "Come on, Anthony, I've got a direct line into Voldemort's head. I didn't notice until a couple years ago, but it definitely helps with some types of magic. Hell, I've pulled off an Unforgivable: I think I can handle a few low-level curses."

There were gasps of shock at that, and Dean Thomas whispered, "Blimey, Harry. Which one?"

"Oh, don't look at me like that, it was the Imperius." Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Draco gaped. "Wait, you mean Macnair was telling the truth? He said you used the Imperius Curse on him in that battle, but none of us believed him, we all thought you were too much of a goody two-shoes to ever use and Unforgivable!"

"Yeah, he was telling the truth." Harry said, smiling wryly. There was a moment of hesitation - then everyone returned to what they had been doing, absorbing the fact that the Boy Who Lived had used an Unforgivable Curse and chalking it up on the list of 'crazy-ass things Harry's done'. Their unwavering acceptance was deeply touching.

By the time the meeting disbanded at nine o'clock, everyone there was exhausted, sore, and exhilarated. Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking back to Gryffindor Tower together, talking in whispers about the meeting, when a voice spoke from close behind them. "Cutting it very close to curfew, aren't you?"

Hermione and Ron nearly jumped out of their skins: Harry spun around, glaring. "Damn it, Tom, don't do that!"

The DADA professor leaned against the wall, smirking: out of the corner of his eye Harry saw the shock on his friends' faces and realized, with a sinking sensation, that he'd called Riddle by his first name. He sighed and glanced at his friends.

"Relax, he doesn't bite. Much." he added ruefully, one hand unconsciously straying up to the side of his neck. Riddle chuckled.

"You two had best get to your dormitory: I won't keep Harry long." he said, his smug smirk daring them to argue. Ron gulped visibly, but Hermione stood her ground, eyes flashing.

"What exactly is going on here, _professor_?"

"Just go, 'Mione, I'll explain back in the common room." Harry said with a sigh. The young witch looked doubtful, but she and Ron both headed down the corridor and out of sight. Harry turned back to Riddle, frowning.

"You know, you're starting to make my life a bit difficult. They're freaking out enough just knowing who you are: now I've either got to lie, which they'll sense and worry about, or tell them what's actually going on, in which case Ron will probably pass out and Hermione will lecture me to within an inch of my life about how reckless I'm being."

Riddle smiled and prowled a little closer, his eyes fixed on Harry's face as he purred, "I really don't care if the whole world knows that I want you, Harry. Besides, I simply can't help myself. I just can't stay away from you."

Harry's insides flipped over at hearing that, and he swallowed, his mouth feeling suddenly dry. "Don't start." he warned, heart thumping. Riddle smirked.

"_**Oh, come now, Harry.**_" he hissed, the Parseltongue practically dripping from his mouth. Harry had never imagined that those chilling, sibilant sounds could be so erotic. "_**We both know you want this as much as I do.**_" Riddle was inches away now, reaching out to brush Harry's bangs back from his eyes, his silvery gaze raking over Harry's face. "_**Why do you keep running, my little serpent?**_"

"_**Because I can't think properly when you're around.**_" Harry breathed, automatically slipping into Parseltongue as well. Riddle's eyes flashed, then darkened in clear desire.

"_**Is that really so bad?**_" he asked softly. Harry's heart gave a strange flutter, and he let his eyes fall closed.

"Maybe not." he whispered, slipping back into English. Only a heartbeat later, he felt Riddle's warm lips descend on his own.

This time, the kiss was different somehow. Slower, gentler, yet also even deeper and more thorough. Harry didn't even try to resist the urge to respond: their mouths locked together, tongues twining in a slow, languid dance of seduction and passion. Riddle backed him slowly against the wall until he was braced against the cold stone, the contrast of Riddle's warm body pressed against his front making him shiver uncontrollably. Harry moaned low in his throat and tilted his head back to give Riddle better access, his hands pressing against the Dark Lord's shoulders, pulling him still closer. Riddle's hands drifted down along his sides to his waist, the lingering caress sending shocks of anticipation through Harry's body. They fit together so easily, as though they had been crafted for each other: Harry felt something quiver deep inside himself, and knew that this was moving past simple lust, into far murkier and more treacherous realms.

He was starting to fall in love with Riddle.

All too soon, the need for air overpowered their craving for each other and they relinquished each other's mouths, gasping softly as they stayed pressed together, staring into each other's eyes. Riddle shook his head slightly, smiling wryly.

"_**These conflicting messages are beginning to try my nerves, little serpent.**_" he murmured. "_**What are you so afraid of?**_"

"_**Of trusting the wrong person again.**_" Harry whispered, shaken to the core, staring up into Riddle's molten quicksilver eyes. "_**Once bitten, twice shy, so they say.**_"

Riddle wore a strange half-smile as his thumb traced the line of Harry's jaw. "_**I'll never betray you, Harry.**_" he breathed. "_**When you can see that, I'll be waiting.**_"

He kissed Harry again, slow and deep, then reluctantly pulled away. "_**Take care of yourself, little serpent.**_" he said softly, then he was gone. Harry stayed where he was for a moment, his breathing swift and unsteady as he absently lifted his fingers to his mouth, feeling the ghost of Riddle's kiss on his lips. Realizing what he was doing, Harry flushed slightly and set out for Gryffindor Tower. Time to face the music.

When he climbed through the portrait hole, he found the common room empty except for his two friends. Ron was sitting in an armchair by the fire, and Hermione was standing next to him, wearing her infamous give-me-the-whole-truth-and-nothing-but-the-truth-right-now-or-else look. She lifted one eyebrow, raking her gaze over Harry from head to toe: realizing that he must look quite disheveled, Harry had to desperately fight a blush. Ron was more vocal.

"Merlin's beard, mate, what happened to you? You're a mess!"

Harry did blush this time, and he tried helplessly to flatten his hair. "Um..."

"You were kissing him, weren't you?" Hermione asked in a tone of steel. Ron choked.

"Are you crazy, 'Mione? Why would Harry..." then Ron caught sight of Harry's crimson face, and faltered. "Okay, maybe you're not crazy. What the hell, mate?"

"I did tell you stuff was changing." Harry mumbled, sinking down into an armchair. Hermione stared at him.

"And that translates to the fact that you were making out with the Dark Lord? I suppose that's why he asked you to stay after class earlier as well. How long has this been going on?"

"We weren't _making out_," Harry said with a touch of irritation, "And the time span depends on your definition. You know he sometimes pokes around in my dreams: he showed up the night I arrived at the Leaky Cauldron and that was the first time we kissed. It didn't happen in real life until this morning, though."

Ron blinked. "Blimey. When were you going to mention that you were snogging You-Know-Who, exactly?"

Harry shifted uncomfortably. "I was going to tell you soon, it's just... I don't really understand what's going on right now myself, I needed to sort it out in my own head before I told you."

Ron still looked slightly confused, but Hermione seemed to catch some of what he wasn't saying, because her expression softened suddenly and she nodded. "Alright, then. As long as he hasn't got you under some kind of spell..."

"No, nothing like that." Harry assured her. "Actually, when you stood up for me earlier, he though it was pretty impressive. I don't think he has any real friends."

Hermione sighed. "I hope you know what you're getting into, Harry."

Harry grinned wryly. "Yeah, I do too."


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's Note: I appear to have met my match! Little did I realize, but one of my readers apparently has the wherewithal to bring a Dragon Lord down on my head! Thus I present two consecutive updates - mostly because a certain someone demanded more Harry/Tom action (who knew I was actually **good **at writing smut? I didn't!) but it didn't really fit into the plot of the first chapter that I'm posting today. Rather than rush the plot, I downed three cups of coffee and wrote two chapters instead. Neat, eh?_

_A.N.2: Who knew writing fics could be even more fun than reading fics? Somehow, in this instance, that seems to be the case though. I am delighted to introduce a new segment of the plot, born entirely of my own imagination. Enjoy! _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing. _

_Disclaimer: Nope, still don't own._

_A.N.3: Oh, and as for 'coming over to the Dark Side of Harry Potter'... believe me, my friend, I was **born** on the Dark Side. Mwah ha ha! _

Two days later, the first class of the morning was Double Potions with the Slytherins. Harry had to grin when he saw that on the timetable: what would Snape think when he found out about the new alliance between Houses?

The look on the Potion Master's face alone was worth it, when he walked into the dungeon classroom to see Harry and Draco sitting side-by-side and poring over the textbook. Draco was saying something about cutting vs. crushing, while Harry was tapping one of the ingredients on the list with a rather insistent air. Snape stared for a moment, unable to believe what he was seeing, then he decided to shrug it off as an optical illusion and moved to the head of the class.

As usual, after assigning the potion they would be making, he partnered Draco with Harry out of sheer sadism. Snape was famous for his impassive mask, but the shock was more than plain on his face as Harry started rummaging through ingredients and Draco began chopping roots without so much as a word of complaint.

The rest of the class was uncharacteristically obedient, also. Pansy was working with Neville, Theo with Hermione, and Blaise had actually volunteered to partner with Ron. Harry and Draco hadn't said a cross word to each other during the whole lesson, and Snape was beginning to feel like he had strayed into some strange alternate dimension. Why weren't they fighting? It should have been a relief, but Snape was too tense waiting for it all to blow up in his face to truly enjoy the peace.

The class passed inordinately quickly, and amazingly, Harry and Draco had actually managed to outdo even Hermione and Theo. Bewildered but more determined than ever to get to the bottom of this, Snape waited until they were all packing up before he snapped, "Potter. Malfoy. I want a word."

He saw a few odd smiles being shot back and forth between the students in the room, Gryffindor and Slytherin alike. Harry actually smiled. "Yes, Professor."

Snape almost died on the spot. He waited until the last student had just cleared the room before he barked, "Who are you two and what have you done to Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter?"

The two teens traded grins, and Draco said, "Sorry Uncle Sev, but it's really us. And no, I haven't gone off the deep end, Harry's had a change of heart - as you should know, being in the Order of the Barbecued Chicken."

When Snape had stopped choking on his own laughter, which he had unwisely tried to swallow, Harry grinned at him. "Didn't Tom tell you, Professor? I'm tiptoeing on the line of treason. Oh, and I've reformed my little defense group, but this time they're working for _me _and not that psychotic old dingbat."

Snape's mouth fell open. Draco laughed. "I'm going to leave you to interrogate him, Harry, I want to get to lunch."

"Sure thing, Dray." Harry said teasingly. Draco groaned.

"For Merlin's sake, stop that!" he said, rolling his eyes as he grabbed hi bookbag and bolted. He paused in the doorway. "Oh, and in case you didn't get the memo, Uncle Sev, if he's not in the Dark Lord's bed yet it's only a matter of time. I'd be polite if I were you."

"Yeah, right, you're never polite to me!" Harry yelled back as Draco took off, laughing hysterically. Snape looked caught between disbelief and outright horror as he stared incredulously at Harry.

"He's not serious?"

Harry smirked at him - _smirked!_ _AT HIM!_ Snape swallowed hard. There was something that looked just a little bit reminiscent of Voldemort himself in that expression. Harry leaned back against his desk, his grin bordering on insolence. "I think you'd have to take that up with Tom, Professor. After all, he's the one calling the shots around here - or at least he likes to think he is. We haven't quite settled that permanently yet. I will get around to seducing him sooner or later, though, so Draco's advice was actually pretty good."

Snape groaned and buried his face in his hands. "That was not something I needed to hear, Potter." He looked up quickly, his face once more inscrutable. "I'd heard that you were determined never to return to the Order of the B- ah, Phoenix. That's true, then?"

"Dumbledore was going to sell me out and send me to Azkaban. He left me with the Dursleys hoping that I'd turn suicidal and put myself out of _his_ misery. The only spell I'll be sending his way is the _Avada Kedavra._"

Harry was momentarily shocked at the coldness in his own voice. Judging by his expression, Snape was too. Harry sighed and raked a hand through his hair. "Look, Professor Snape - I'm not who everyone thinks I am. I'm not the perfect Gryffindor Golden Boy that I've had to play all these years. I killed the Dursleys in cold blood - I might have lost control of my magic but make no mistake, I wanted them dead." Suddenly, the faintest trace of ringing started to chime in the back of his head: worried, Harry fought to keep his voice level, fight down the anger. "On that note, Professor, I need to know what side you're on. Not what side you think you should say you're on this week, or what side Dumbledore told you to be on: if this comes down to a bloodbath, who are you going to be hexing?"

Snape sighed and sank down into his chair, looking suddenly very old and tired. "I haven't been very honest with you, Potter - nor have I been very forgiving. However... in all honesty, I'm not on the side of the Dark Lord or Albus Dumbledore. The only person I actually give a damn about in this war is... you."

Harry nodded slowly, less surprised than he perhaps should have been. "Because of my mother." It was a statement, not a question.

Snape's head jerked up in surprise as he stared at Harry. "Yes, but how...?"

"Let's just say that I pick up more through my link with Tom than I generally let on." Harry said, smiling wryly. "Dumbledore thinks that all I get are vague flashes of dreams: he has no idea the things I overhear."

Snape looked intensely wary. "Like what?"

"I happen to know that Bellatrix Lestrange is not actually entirely insane but keeps up the act anyway to fool the Barbecued Chickens. I know that Tom's been using the old Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton as his headquarters for the last four years. I know that the reason that Avery hasn't been on the last few raids is because he's six feet under - that he was a traitor and Tom found out. I know that Tom's been brokering alliances with the merpeople and some of the old-blood centaur clans. I know that for the last year, Firenze has been working as a double agent for Tom, on condition that his family not be harmed in the war. I know that four weeks ago, Tom found out that the Prophecy Trelawney supposedly made was a total, utter fraud."

Snape's face was deathly white as he stared at Harry, his expression stricken. "Good heavens, Potter... you know all our most well-kept secrets. You could have given Dumbledore our entire organization on a silver platter. How did the Dark Lord not know how much you knew?"

"Because until two years ago, Tom didn't even know the connection existed." Harry said simply. "He wasn't watching for it... and we were never quite as opposed as we seemed. If Tom had truly wanted me dead, I don't think I'd be standing here to have this conversation." He paused. "I meant what I said about reforming the DA into my own personal army. If you're really on my side, then I expect Dumbledore won't find out about that."

"The second he advocated putting you in Azkaban, I was finished with him." Snape vowed. "You choose a side, Potter, I'll follow."

Harry grinned. "I didn't think I'd ever hear you say that, Professor, but I'm glad. I've reorganized my allies into the Order of the Chimaera: we've got members of all four Houses, and there are several members who have already left Hogwarts. Draco's going to bring it up with his father later today so that he knows what's going on, and I think Tom might already know. It's hard to tell how much he plucks out of my head. The link's been there long enough that it doesn't feel unnatural anymore. If you hear any of my friends talking about 'the Order', that's what we're talking about. Dumbledork's little minions are being referred to strictly as the Barbecued Chickens from now on."

Snape actually chuckled. "It has a certain ring to it, that's for sure. Who came up with that?"

"Demelza Robins and a few Hufflepuffs that are in the Order." Harry said, slinging his bag over his shoulder and tossing Snape a quick grin. "Now, if you'll excuse me, Professor, I'd like to get some lunch."

Snape waved a hand at him. "Go on, you insolent brat, get out of my classroom." Harry fled, laughing.

When he slid into his spot at the Slytherin table, he was subjected to stares of intense curiosity from his friends. "What happened?" Hermione asked eagerly. "Did you get an answer out of Professor Snape?"

"Oh, yeah. An answer and a half." Harry said, grinning. His grin melted into a momentary scowl, which he directed at Draco. "How the hell did you know, anyway? I only told Ron and 'Mione last night!"

"Please, you were hardly subtle." Draco scoffed. "You're forgetting I played carrier pigeon for two weeks. I just didn't say anything because frankly it's just creepy!"

Pansy frowned. "What's creepy?"

"Harry's got a crush on our new professor." Draco informed them. Theo choked and just about spit his orange juice all over the table.

"_What?_ Harry, have you got a death wish or something?"

"No." Harry said firmly, grinning. "And my love life is none of your business, thank you very much. Besides, _he_ started it. As I was saying before, turns out Snape hasn't really been working for Dumbledore or Voldemort: in his own words, he's on my side only. Apparently, he's still in love with my mom, even after all these years. He already ditched Dumbledore the night I killed the Dursleys, and I told him about the Order. He's completely on board. 'Course, he did call me an insolent brat, but that's pretty tame compared to some of the other things he's called me over the years."

Ron gaped. "Snape's on _your_ side? Bloody hell, didn't see that one coming."

"I did." Hermione said calmly. "I've been telling you since first year that Professor Snape wasn't working for You-Know-Who, and now I've finally been vindicated." She paused, then said, "I haven't been able to get anything out of any of the other teachers, though."

Harry remembered his conversation with Riddle after DADA, and grinned. "I was right on one count. When we talked after Defense yesterday, Tom told me himself that McGonagall knows who he really is. Hagrid too, oddly enough: I guess Dumbledore told him about that. We need to talk to Hagrid at some point soon, try and figure out what side _he's_ on. I hope not Dumbledore's, but if he is..."

Harry didn't need to say it aloud. If Hagrid stood by Dumbledore, then he became an enemy as well. Ron shivered a little.

"This isn't how I pictured the war at all." he muttered, shaking his head. "I thought we were supposed to go through school all normal, then hunt down You-Know-Who and kill him. Simple."

"In that world, though, Dumbledore was actually the kind, wise protector he likes to pretend to be." Harry said grimly. "He forced us off his side, and Tom's not nearly as evil as Dumbledore made him out to be." Seeing the shock on Ron and Hermione's faces, even while the Slytherins nodded in approval, Harry sighed. "Look, I'm not saying that he hasn't done some bad things over the years, but... he and I really do have a lot in common, you know."

"Yes, but-" Hermione broke off sharply, her eyes widening and her face growing pale. Harry stared at her.

"What's wrong?"

She flushed and looked down at her plate, then whispered, "I was going to say that, _you've_ never killed anyone."

There was a slightly tense silence. Harry sighed. "That's just the point, though. Tom's killed a lot of people, yes, but some of those people - most of them even - really _needed_ killing. You grew up with Muggles too, 'Mione: you've seen what some of them are capable of. They're no different from us in that way - there are some that would think magic is wonderful, and there are some that would want to exterminate us like rats. The first kind are just fine, but the second kind - why shouldn't we at least defend ourselves from them, instead of running and hiding like cowards?"

Draco stared at him, wide-eyed. "You know, I think you actually just paraphrased one of the Dark Lord's favorite inspirational speeches. That's kind of eerie."

Harry grimaced. "It wasn't intentional." He turned back to his two stunned best friends. "Guys, half the stuff Dumbledore told us about Tom is complete tripe. The bit about him wanting to wipe out all Muggles? It's utter nonsense. There's going to be some _trimming_, if you will, but if we tried to eradicate all Muggles we'd die out in no time, there just aren't enough wizards."

"What about the whole blood-purity thing?" Ron asked, frowning. "Is he really planning on going around killing Muggleborns?"

Harry sighed. "Ron, for Merlin's sake... Tom's a halfblood! He was raised in a Muggle orphanage: of all people, who would better understand what it's like? His _actual _plan is to set up a system so that Muggleborn wizards are taken at birth and adopted out to good wizarding families. 'Mione, you got lucky with your parents but even so, wouldn't it have been easier if they knew about magic? And I would sure as hell have rather been with _any_ wizarding family than with the Dursleys."

The Slytherins gaped, and Pansy spluttered, "The Dark Lord's a halfblood?"

"Yes, his father was a Muggle, I'd almost forgotten that." Hermione said thoughtfully. "That does sound rather reasonable, Harry. For every Muggleborn who grows up in a good household like I did, there are at least a hundred that suffer because of their powers. Where did all the stories about purity come from, though?"

"Dumbledore, where else?" Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I pretended to believe him, but that's when I started to understand what he was up to: I hear a lot more through my link with Tom than Dumbledore thought, and I knew what he was telling me wasn't true. It never did make sense that Tom would be obsessed with blood purity when he's a halfblood, even without the link."

Blaise looked up from his food. "It's rather eerie having a conversation with you these days, Harry. You know more about what the Dark Lord is planning than we do - hell, probably more than any of the Death Eaters know. You probably know more than Draco's father!"

"Which reminds me, I'm going to talk to him after classes today and tell him about the Order." Draco said, glancing up at the staff table. "He'll probably be delighted just because it's got so many people from different Houses."

Harry nodded, but before he could say anything else he heard a familiar voice. "Hello, Harry, did you know you have a Wrackspurt flying around your head?"

Harry looked up, smiling broadly. "Hey, Luna. It's been there for a while, I think. What's up?"

The Ravenclaw girl smiled vacantly, her large eyes drifting curiously over their group. "Oh, I just wanted to let you know that the Sibilfogs gave me a warning earlier this morning. They said that something really important was going to happen this afternoon right after lunch, and that you need to be there."

Harry frowned slightly. He knew better than to dismiss one of Lune's warnings, no matter how cryptic or strange. "Alright, I'll keep my eyes open. Thanks, Luna."

"No trouble, Harry." she said, drifting back toward the Ravenclaw table. Theo stared after her in bewilderment.

"What the hell is a Sibilfog?"

"That one I actually have some idea of." Harry said, smirking. "Luna 'discovered' them: they're named for Professor Trelawney. Sybil-fogs, get it?"

Draco snickered. "That old bat couldn't predict the weather, much less the future."

"Yeah, and apparently she's in the business of making up fake prophecies on demand." Harry said with a snort. "That one about Tom and me was completely false, you know. Dumbledore got her to make it up in exchange for getting her a job here at Hogwarts."

"I knew it!" Ron said triumphantly. "She couldn't make a prediction to save her life."

Hermione sniffed. "If you ask me, Firenze is a much more reliable Seer."

Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing as he glanced up to the staff table, where Firenze was deep in conversation with Snape. Harry hadn't told his friends about the centaur's allegiances: before the summer, he hadn't been a hundred percent sure of who he could trust. He shook his head. "We'd better hurry if we want to get to our next class on time."

Draco and the Slytherins had Transfiguration, so Harry, Ron, and Hermione bid they goodbye and went on their way. As they were headed though the packed corridors to Charms, the most horrendous, bloodcurdling shriek Harry had ever heard grated on their eardrums. The three of them clapped their hands over their ears, cringing, then the hellish sound faded as quickly as it had come.

An excited babble erupted from the students around them: with a single shared glance, the Golden Trio drew their wands and ran down the hallway toward where the scream had come from.

What they found stopped them cold in their tracks. Susan Bones was sprawled on the floor, unconscious or worse. The corridor was deserted, but the wall on either side of Susan were rippled and cracked, as though some tremendous force had hit them. There was no trace, however, of anyone who might have caused it.

Some strange instinct tugged Harry's eyes upward. Looking toward the ceiling, he caught a single glimpse of eerie, burning yellow eyes. Harry felt a wave of pure hatred wash over him, emanating from those yellow eyes: somehow, he knew that the creature would have killed him on the spot if it dared. The sheer loathing radiating from it was staggering.

"There!" he yelled, bringing his wand up. As he reached out with his magic, he almost choked: the creature was surrounded by traces of an all-too familiar magical signature. _Dumbledore! _There was a blur of movement and darkness, shooting away from them, and the creature was gone.

"What the hell was that thing?" Ron asked, shaking slightly as he lowered his wand. Harry shook his head.

"I don't know. I've seen a lot of weird things around this castle, but not anything even close to that. Is Susan okay?"

"She's unconscious, but she's breathing and her pulse is steady." Hermione said, kneeling next to Susan's body. Then, with a sudden exclamation, she leaned forward and retrieved a feather from the floor. Almost a foot long, it was barred and dappled with alternating crimson and black, the fringes edged with the merest hint of gold. Ron stared at it.

"Blimey, that's one fancy feather. What's it from?"

"I don't know." Hermione whispered, gazing at it in awe. "It is rather beautiful, but I've seen anything like it before. It must be from whatever that creature on the ceiling was."

At that moment, running footsteps approached, and Professor McGonagall hurried around the corner. Seeing Susan, she lifted her hand to her mouth, eyes widening. "Good heavens! What happened?"

"We heard this horrible scream, and we found Susan already out cold." Hermione said, springing to her feet. "There was this creature clinging to the ceiling: it was too dark to see it properly, but it had bright yellow eyes. It took off as soon as Harry spotted it."

Professor McGonagall checked over Susan quickly, then eyed the feather Hermione was still holding. "That is a most remarkable feather, Miss Granger. I have never seen one like it. You found by Miss Bones's body?"

"Yes, and I think I might know who can tell us what it's from." Harry said, mind racing. McGonagall looked at him curiously.

"And who might that be, Mr. Potter?"

Harry glanced at her and raised his eyebrows. "I think you already know, Professor."

To their amazement, Professor McGonagall actually looked rather sheepish. "So, you do know then." she said, staring at Harry intently. "From what Albus had told me of your scar, I thought you might."

"It's a long story, Professor, but I knew what Tom looked like from years back." Harry said. "Are you spying on him for Dumbledore, or have you changed sides?"

McGonagall frowned. Something about Harry's cavalier tone had obviously made her wary. "First, Mr. Potter, I think we need to establish just whose side _you _are on."

"Oh, I haven't officially signed on with Tom yet, if that's what you're asking." Harry said easily. "I've kind of started a third side. And yes, Ron and Hermione jumped ship with me."

The professor looked greatly startled as she turned to the others. "Miss Granger, is this true?"

Hermione blushed. "Yes, Professor." she admitted. "Ron and I have left the Order of the Phoenix. We were tired of being lied to and manipulated."

McGonagall shook her head in amazement. "Apparently, Albus decided that no one needed to know about that. Well, I suppose I can tell you then - yes, I too have left the Order. Albus is going down a dark path, and I can no longer turn a blind eye to the immoral methods he is employing. I am greatly relieved that you left, Mr. Potter, you have no idea what Albus was planning for you."

"Actually, I know quite well, Professor." Harry said, shaking his head. "You'd better get Susan to the Hospital Wing - it's a bit early to guess, but she's part of the new Order I created, so this might have been targeted."

McGonagall looked deeply alarmed. "Very well, Mr. Potter. See what you can find out about that feather." She used a Levitation Charm on Susan's limp form and hurried away down the corridor. Ron stared at Harry, looking slightly green.

"You're really going to just walk into He Who Must Not Be Named's office and ask him about that feather?"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to." Harry said, shrugging. Though he was outwardly calm, inside, the ringing had started again and his blood was boiling. He might not have any hard proof yet, but he was absolutely certain that Dumbledore was behind the attack, and that made him furious. How dare that old meddler attack one of Harry's friends?

Ron straightened his spine, expression firming. "No. I'll come. If we've got this weird truce thing going on, I should get over being so spooked."

"I'll come too." Hermione added. Harry nodded gratefully, and they hurried to the third floor, where Riddle's office was located.

Inwardly seething, Harry didn't even bother to knock. He could feel Ron and Hermione cringing behind him as he strode in. Riddle was reading through one of the quizzes: he looked up as they entered and lifted one eyebrow. "Harry. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Not now, Tom, we've got a problem." Harry said firmly. Thankfully, the ringing had subsided again as soon as he entered the room, so he could think clearly. "Susan Bones, one of my Chimaeras, was just attacked by some kind of creature on the first floor. I don't know what the hell it was, but it wasn't very nice whatever it was, and it reeked of Dumbledore. "

Riddle stiffened, and his silver eyes flashed scarlet. "Did you get a good look at it?"

"No. It was up on the ceiling, and just out of the light, so that we couldn't see it. Hermione found this on the floor by Susan, though." Harry laid the glistening feather one the desk.

Riddle froze and stared at if for a second. His face was inscrutable, but Harry could feel his emotions bleeding through their link. Fury was foremost, and shock, and even a tiny filament of fear. That had Harry worried. What could scare the Dark Lord?

"There was only one creature?" Riddle asked after a moment, his voice strained with the effort of keeping his rage in check. Harry nodded, and Riddle exhaled slowly. "Then we might be able to stop this before it goes any further." He reached out and picked up the feather gingerly, studying it intently. "This is real, without a doubt, which means this school is in grave danger."

He looked up at them, his eyes still crimson. "This feather is from a creature known as an Ulama. Their main weapon is a devastating sonic screech: at full strength it can put people into a coma. More than one screeching at a time can kill. They also have venomous claws. They're also known as 'the Devil Bird', and they are extremely rarely scene in civilized areas: they prefer the high mountains. They're native to Sri Lanka, which means there's no chance this one was here by accident. Whatever Dumbledore is playing at, he clearly doesn't care if a lot of people get hurt." He looked sharply at Harry. "The girl who was attacked is one of your allies?"

Harry nodded, and Riddle rose. "I'm going to the hospital wing to see if I can reverse the effects - you three should get to your next class, but be on guard. Ulamas are fast and vicious. I doubt Dumbledore's stupid enough to go after you directly, but be careful." With that, Riddle swept from the room and vanished in the direction of the hospital wing.

There was a brief silence, then Ron choked out, "Blimey! Did you see his eyes?"

"He's pissed, and so am I." Harry said, a slight hiss tinging his words. "Dumbledore's gone too far this time." Clenching his hand around his wand, he looked at Hermione. "Call an Order meeting for this evening - after classes end, but before supper. We can't wait on this one. I am _not_ going to let that meddling old fool get away with this!" The fury coursing through him was so great, he hardly noticed that his wand was spitting little red sparks.

Ron and Hermione were staring at him like he'd grown a second head, then Hermione whispered, "Harry, your eyes..."

Instantly, Harry remembered what he had seen that night at the Leaky Cauldron. Wincing, he reigned in his anger: the glowing green of his eyes dimmed, the pupils rounding out once more. "Sorry. That just started happening over the summer."

"I think you've got some anger issues, mate." Ron said, looking awed. The tension broke: Harry actually chuckled.

"Yeah, maybe Tom's rubbing off on me. We'd better get to Charms. Make sure to set that meeting, 'Mione - and make sure they know it's urgent."

"I will." Hermione said fervently. As they hurried toward the Charms classroom, Harry couldn't help but wonder what Dumbledore was planning. _We might be able to stop this before it goes any further..._ what did Riddle think was going to happen?

With a sinking sensation Harry realized that, with his luck, they would probably find out the hard way.

.

.

_Whew, that was a long one. Just in case anyone was wondering - yes, the Ulama is a real-world cryptid. Its true identity is hotly debated, but its appearance is generally attributed to the Oriental Honey Buzzard, though in previous centuries its cry was believed to belong to the Ceylon Highland Nightjar. I made up the bit about venomous talons, but it's cry **is** supposed to be an omen of death, kind of like a banshee. Next chapter: Dumbledore realizes that he has fucked up. Big time. _


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's Note: Here you go, second chapter of the day. Bon appetite! _

Classes that afternoon were torture. Fortunately for the trio of friends, Professor Flitwick must have been apprised of the situation by McGonagall, because he made no mention of their lateness. Still, they had to spend the next hour practicing Sticking Charms, and Harry was definitely not in the mood. He felt edgy and tense, his skin prickling with the anger that lay just beneath. He'd never been all that good at controlling his emotions, and in recent years that had gotten far worse. He wondered if this was what Riddle felt like when he was in his Voldemort persona: full of anger and itching to lash out. If so, Harry couldn't blame him for being a bit short-tempered.

Harry knew that he was becoming more like Riddle with every day that passed, and it was partly because of that knowledge that he hesitated to fully join the Dark Lord in the war. That would bring them into even closer association, and Harry wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out before he snapped. On the other hand, though... why shouldn't he be like Riddle? They certainly had enough reason to strike back at the world that had so often kicked them to the curb.

Already, Harry found himself thinking of the members of the Order of the Chimaera as his followers, not just his friends. That kind of thinking had only gotten worse since his discussions with Snape and McGonagall: they were his teachers, yet they had more or less said that they were going to follow his orders. It was confusing, but also thrilling. There was a kind of intoxication in having that power, something Harry had never felt before. All his life with the Dursleys had been about understanding that he _had_ no power. Now, all that was changing.

Dumbledore had crossed a line, had done the unforgivable. He had attacked a student whose only crime was helping Harry. The choice was made in an instant: Harry could no longer delay. He needed allies, and come hell or high water, Dumbledore was going to pay.

When their last class of the day finally let out, Harry practically ran for the Room of Requirement. His heart was pumping with anticipation - tonight they would plan, and take the first steps toward striking back at Albus Dumbledore. He could hardly wait.

The Slytherins were the first to show up. Draco looked concerned. "The coins said it was urgent - what's going on?"

Harry shook his head and continued pacing. "I'll explain once everyone gets here.

It's about Dumbledore."

The Slytherins exchanged uneasy glances and sat in silence.

When all the members of the Order of the Chimaera were present, Harry took his place before them and began to speak. "As you may or may not be aware, Susan Bones was attacked this afternoon just after lunch. The creature that attacked her was an Ulama, a type of very rare, very dangerous bird. This Ulama was sent by Albus Dumbledore."

Instantly the room erupted in chaos. When things had settled slightly, Ernie called out, "Are you sure?"

""Yes. I saw it: it had Dumbledore's magical signature all over it." Harry said solemnly. There were angry mutters throughout the crowd, and Justin Finch-Fletchley said angrily, "That's bloody cowardly, sending some bird to attack instead of facing us! You think he knows about us, and that's why she was attacked?"

"I can't see why else she would have been targeted, she's in Hufflepuff and she hasn't been that involved in the war up until now." Harry said grimly. "I know none of you are traitors, you all signed the paper, and I trust you. I don't know how Dumbledore's spying on us, but that's not the point right now. He's attacked one of our members, and he's set a dangerous creature loose in Hogwarts. This means war."

There was a breathless hush, and Hannah Abbot whispered, "Does that mean what I think it means?"

"Yes." Harry said simply. "We're joining the Dark Lord."

He scanned the room: not a single person looked upset, or even afraid. All of them simply nodded, supremely confident in Harry's judgement. Feeling a warm glow infuse him, Harry drew a deep breath. "The moment this meeting is over, I'm going to talk to Tom and negotiate. Now, though, I think it's time to move the schedule up a little. We've covered the review sections: now, we're going to start on curses."

A soft 'oooh' went through the room. Harry smiled. "Anyone who was in fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament probably remembers the first class with the Death Eater impersonating Alastor Moody. Barty Crouch Junior wasn't entirely sane, but he had one thing right, and that's about the Unforgivables. The only way to resist the Imperius Curse is to have practiced."

Neville stuck up his hand, face pale. "You're actually going to make us try and fight the Imperius Curse?"

"It's not that bad, Neville." Harry said soothingly. "The worst I ever suffered was in Moody's class, that first time - when I didn't quite fight the urge to jump and slammed my head into the desk."

Ernie was staring. "Just how good at casting that curse are you?"

Harry grinned. "Good enough." he said pointedly. "Unlike Moody, however, I'm going to teach you how to cast it as well as resist it." Seeing their shock, he sighed. "Dumbledore's broken almost every law there is in bringing that Ulama here. The Ministry is collapsing around its own ears, they aren't going to be able to do a thing once this war really breaks out. Besides, I think Tom's already got them in his pocket. Dumbledore's not going to hesitate to tell the Barbecued Chickens to use the Unforgivables, so we can't hesitate either."

The meeting lasted two hours. By the end, Harry was exhausted: he'd put everyone in the room under the Imperius Curse at least five times, and it had taken its toll. He'd also started teaching them how to cast it. Some of them were quite talented at it - including Draco and Blaise - while others, like Neville, simply couldn't muster the will to control another person. Harry congratulated them, said they'd continue another time, and dismissed them with a feeling of intense satisfaction.

They filed out, tired but pleased. Draco was one of the last to leave, and he grinned at Harry. "You made the right choice, you know. I'm glad you finally see that."

Harry grinned. "You just want the credit for recruiting me." he said with a snort, stretching tired muscles. "Merlin, I'm beat. Ron, Hermione, you go back to the dormitory without me: I need to talk to Tom. It might take a while, don't bother waiting up for me."

Draco smirked. "Yeah, right. Already thinking about how get away with spending the night, aren't you?"

"None of your business if I am, _Dray_." Harry said, smirking. He laughed at the looks on his friends faces. "I am not, anyway."

"You better not be." Ron muttered. "The thought's making my skin crawl."

Shaking his head in amusement, Harry headed to Riddle's office. This time, he bothered to knock.

"Enter." came Riddle's rich, smooth voice. Harry felt a slight shiver tingle along his spine as he pushed the door open.

Riddle was back at his desk, paging through a musty, yellowed book that must have been a foot thick. He was frowning, but the frown transformed into a smile when he looked up and saw Harry. "Ah, Harry. What brings you here, my little serpent?"

Harry sat down in the chair across from Riddle, his expression serious. "I want to join you."

Riddle raised an eyebrow, a hint of triumph creeping into his smile. "Ah, so the high and mighty Dumbledore finally crossed the line, did he?"

"Yes. I'm not going to stand on pride. At this point, it would be ridiculous not to join forces."

Riddle smiled and closed the book, then studied Harry for a moment. "You look exhausted."

Harry laughed tiredly. "I would think so. I just spent the last two hours teaching the Chimaeras how to cast and resist the Imperius Curse. I'm completely bushed."

Riddle's silver eyes widened. "You were teaching them to _cast_ the Imperius Curse?" He stared at Harry in amazement. "Apparently, I've had more of an influence on you than I originally thought. Or were you always this much of a rebel?"

Harry grinned. "I don't follow rules very well." he admitted. "On that note, I came to discuss a few conditions. First, none of the Chimaeras take the Mark - the last thing we need is to draw more attention to ourselves. Secondly, they still answer to me, not you. Thirdly, I want complete honesty. I don't have a problem with keeping you apprised of everything that's going on, but I expect the same. I've had enough of being kept in the dark for a lifetime."

Riddle smirked. "Not many people would dare dictate terms to me, my little serpent." he murmured, rising and stalking gracefully around the desk. Not to be outdone, Harry rose also and met his gaze levelly. The message in his gaze was clear. _You don't frighten me._

Riddle leaned closer, smirking, tilting Harry's chin up with one fingertip. "And what exactly do I get out of this deal?"

Harry matched his smirk. "You get the Boy Who Lived on your side of the war, and a whole new force of foot soldiers. Don't get greedy, _my Lord_."

Riddle hissed softly, his eyes darkening visibly at Harry's choice of address. His fingers slid along Harry's jaw, shifting so that his hand cupped the younger wizard's chin. "You would to well to stop teasing me, little serpent."

Harry's green eyes were almost luminous as he smiled up at the Dark Lord. He licked his lips lightly, watching with smug satisfaction as Riddle's eyes flickered crimson with desire. Leaning closer, Harry whispered, "Who said I'm teasing you?"

A low hiss escaped Riddle's lip and his free hand dropped to Harry's waist, crushing them together as he captured the teen's mouth. Harry responded instantly, his arms winding around Riddle as they battled for control of the kiss. Harry lost the fight but didn't care: all that mattered was being here in Riddle's arms.

...

At the moment that Harry was busy being devoured by his one-time mortal enemy, Albus Dumbledore was busy fuming. How _dare_ Harry do this to him? He had everything planned out from the day that Harry Potter had lived and Lord Voldemort had vanished. He had known in an instant what Harry was, what he had _become_: from then on, the boy's sole destiny was to die.

That hadn't been the original plan, of course: the original plan was that they would lure Voldemort out with the false prophecy and kill him when he came to kill Harry. To this day Dumbledore didn't know what went wrong that fateful night, but Lily and James Potter hadn't come to the prearranged meeting place where the showdown would occur. They had been at home instead, out of the Order's reach, and they had paid with their lives. Dumbledore suspected Sirius Black had had a hand in that particular scenario, but he couldn't determine how or why. It no longer mattered, anyway.

What mattered was that now, just when all his schemes were on the verge of finally bearing fruit, Harry had jumped ship. He had left the Order high and dry, and fled to none other than Lord Voldemort himself. Voldemort was teaching at Hogwarts, Harry was still alive and well, and if Dumbledore's information was accurate he was busy creating his own personal army. Perhaps the greatest danger, though, was simply the fact that he was talking to Lord Voldemort.

Dumbledore knew about the strange symptoms that had been plagueing Harry. He knew the sypmtoms, and he knew the cause. Heaven help him if Harry ever discovered the same.

He was sitting in his office at the headquarters of the Order of the Phoenix, brooding, when there was a knock on the door. He looked up, startled. He hadn't expected anyone. "Enter." he called, keeping his voice calm.

A figure entered, hooded and cloaked. His informant. The person seemed to drift more than walk across to Dumbledore's desk, then sank into the chair across from Dumbledore. The individual's voice was soft and slightly quivering, difficult to hear for its sheer quietness. "Potter has taken the next step."

Dumbledore stiffened, staring at the cloaked figure. "What do you mean?"

"He has sworn an alliance with the Dark Lord." came the whispering voice. "They have joined forces against you."

Dumbledore was very still, then he said quietly, "That is not good. We must step up our efforts. This new alliance of Harry's must be destroyed."

The figure bowed, rising, its voice a quaver of despair. "Yes, Headmaster."

The figure vanished. Dumbledore sat for a moment more, thinking. This was, in fact, a terrible blow to his plans. The reason being, Harry was now far closer to finding out the truth.

You see, the truth was that Harry and Lord Voldemort - or, more correctly, Harry and Tom Riddle - were soulmates. Destined to be together. That was the true reason why the Killing Curse backfired that night: Voldemort's magic had recognized Harry's and refused to kill him. When Harry was turned into Voldemort's Horcrux, that bond only grew stronger - but it wasn't complete. They had not yet acknowledged each other, were still fighting that pull between them.

If Harry and Voldemort ever admitted their love for each other, the bond would solidify - and both wizards would recieve an enormous benefit from that. Their minds would be even more closely linked than before, and their magical fields would feed off of each other, making both more powerful. If they realized the truth and confessed their love, Dumbledore would be in dire straits indeed. That was why he had kept the truth from Harry all these years - but some time after Sirius's death, things had taken a turn for the worse.

Lost in grief, Harry's soul had begun crying out ever more loudly for its partner. Thus, the seeming madness had taken root. Each time Harry was distressed or angry, the bond sought comfort - and in the process produced rather unpleasant side effects. Those symptoms would disappear each time he was in Voldemort's presence, and they would be gone permanently once the bond was sealed. Of course, Harry's sanity might still be in question - being soulbonded to the darkest wizard of all time was sure to have a unique effect on the mind - but not from the bond itself, at least. Dumbledore could not afford to let that happen. If it did, everything he had worked so hard for might yet come crashing down around his ears.

For the first time in decades, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore felt the cold touch of fear.

...

By this point back at Hogwarts, Riddle had Harry pinned under him in bed and was busy divesting them both of their robes. Harry was having trouble thinking through the desire and pleasure fogging his mind, but one thing _did_ make it through the haze - this was one instance where he couldn't just plunge in blindly. He had to make sure.

He in love with Tom Riddle, there was no denying it now. But if Riddle thought this was going to be just a one-night stand, Harry wasn't going to accept that. He wasn't going to be used and thrown away again. He pulled away from Riddle's kiss, lifting one hand to stop the Dark Lord.

"Tom... what is this?"

Riddle paused and frowned down at him, clearly puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Harry drew a deep breath, trying to keep himself from trembling: the mixture of apprehension and desire in his veins was making him feel dizzy. "I mean, is this just a one-night stand, or... something more?"

Riddle's eyes softened, and a surprisingly tender look flitted over his face. "You're scared I'm going to abandon you, aren't you?" he whispered, leaning down to brush his lips against Harry's. The contact was so gentle that Harry's heart gave a strange lurch, a little bolt of painful joy shooting through him. "Oh, Harry... _**I will never leave you, my little serpent. I could never hurt you again.**_"

Harry felt his breath catch and he reached up, brushing a stray lock of black hair from Riddle's face as he searched his eyes. Before he could even think better of it, the words slipped from his mouth. "I love you."

A strange feeling suffused the air around them, little crackles of magic dancing over their skin. A breathless hush seemed to fall all around them, as though waiting for something. A look Harry had never seen before filled Riddle's face, as he murmured, "I love you too."

The room seemed to implode. Harry gasped as a wave of pure magic washed over and through him, setting his blood on fire. Riddle froze, his eyes widening as he felt the bond in the back of their minds suddenly burst to new life, sending magic pouring through them both, and drowning them in each other's minds and souls.

For a long moment they just clung together, too stunned to move. Then Harry whispered, "What was that?"

"Our magical cores bonded." Riddle whispered, staring at Harry in awe, who looked bewildered.

"What does that mean?"

"It means we are soulmates." Riddle said, a hint of anger beginning to prickle at the back of his mind. "Dumbledore, that bastard... he knew, that was why he kept us apart. He knew that we were meant to be together..." Riddle jerked himself back into the present and smiled down at his confused lover. "It doesn't matter now, love." he purred, bending to press his lips into the hollow of Harry's throat. "We both love each other, that is all that really matters."

Harry smiled, feeling his worries melt away. "That sounds about right to me." he murmured, and surrendered to the Dark Lord who had captured his heart.

...

Harry woke in the morning wondering if he had died and gone to heaven. He'd never believed that anything could feel that good, but Riddle had certainly provided proof. He was a little sore now, but definitely in a good way. He was also pressed against a warm, muscular chest, and there were gentle fingers carding through his messy hair.

"Mmm." Harry stated eloquently, getting a chuckle from the man holding him.

"Rise and shine, sleepyhead. It's almost eight o'clock: you'd better get to breakfast if you want to eat before classes start."

Harry opened his eyes and blinked a little fuzzily, smiling up into warm silver eyes. "Good morning, Tom." he whispered, feeling a surge of warm emotions run through him. Riddle returned his smile and kissed him gently on the lips.

"Good morning to you too." he murmured against Harry's lips. "Sleep well?"

"Definitely." Harry purred, reaching up and winding his arms around his lover's neck. "Last night was... amazing."

"It certainly was." Riddle said, eyes sparkling as he trailed soft kisses along Harry's jaw. "And I hope for many repeats in the future. Sadly, you really do need to get to breakfast now."

"Mmm." Harry sighed and reluctantly released him. "Oh, very well. I'm going to catch hell from Ron and Hermione for this: Ron especially seems kind of creeped out by the idea of you and me in a relationship."

Riddle chuckled as he rose. "I can't imagine why." He tossed Harry his clothes, which had gotten scattered over a surprising area sometime the night before. "If I recall correctly, my class is first on your schedule today: don't think this is going to keep me from deducting points if your late."

Harry laughed, shrugging into his robes. "No special treatment for sleeping with the teacher, hm?" he asked, smiling wickedly as he kissed Tom one more time. The older man chuckled.

"No, but I assure you, there are benefits for sleeping with the Dark Lord." he said teasingly, ruffling a hand through Harry's hair. "Now go, before your friends explode."

Harry grinned and obeyed. He didn't quite make it all the way to breakfast, though, because he was accosted the second he stepped into the Entrance Hall by Ron and Hermione.

Hermione grabbed his arm, totally ignoring his attempts at speech, and dragged him into an empty classroom. She then spelled the door shut behind Ron and folded her arms, staring pointedly at Harry. "Well, Harry, how nice of you to turn up. Anything you'd like to share?"

Harry drew himself up in as dignified a manner as he could, trying valiantly not to blush. "Like what, exactly?"

Ron gaped at him. "Like what? Like, maybe, where the hell you were all night?"

Harry had developed a very effective method of covering his natural shyness with smugness. He smirked. "With Tom, where else?"

Hermione's composure cracked: she squealed. "Oh my God, you actually slept with him!" She turned on Ron. "You owe me five Sickles!"

Ron looked flabbergasted, backing away in horror. "C'mon, mate!" he appealed to Harry. "Joke's over, don't make me pay her! A Weasley never loses a bet!"

"So _that's_ your problem." Harry exclaimed, grinning. "Sorry, mate, you owe her five Sickles."

Ron groaned. "Oh, man. I'll never live this down." He forked over the money, then shook his head. "Damn. Oh, well - let's get to breakfast. I'm starved."

Hermione chattered on as usual as they headed into the Great Hall: Harry tuned her out and walked along in his own shining, perfect bubble. He knew he was grinning like a loon, but he didn't care in the slightest. Ulama or not, he had never been happier.

_..._

_..._

_I can already hear the outraged screams. I suspect that I'm going to catch a fair bit of hell for dropping the bedroom scene where I did, but please allow me to explain. FFN's going on another purge, so I want to play it safe: if I get enough reviews begging for more, after I finish the fic I will write a sort of bonus chapter with the rest of that scene. (Subliminal message: you will review... you will review... you will review...) Rest assured, I won't stop writing the smut just because they've slept together now. Let's face it, what person in Harry's position would be able to keep their hands off Tom Riddle for more than ten minutes at a stretch? (Not bloody many, in my opinion). _


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's Note: Does anyone know the elemental opposite of a fire-breathing dragon? That's right, water. The thing that is covering my floor in a six-inch layer. Turns out my new apartment is just a little too close to the creek. The creek which just overflowed, thanks to all this unseasonable rain we've been having, and has taken up residence in my living quarters. Hence the Godawful delay in posting this chapter. I am currently living with my sister, so updates might be a little slow for a while. Eh. Laissez faire (even if 'them' happens to be the water skeeters in my kitchen). _

_A.N.2: Wow. Who knew so many people were looking forward to seeing Dumbledork topple from his pedestal? Well, I do so like to oblige my readers... heh heh. I see there's some interest in the identity of my mysterious traitor: I'll have to start dropping hints soon._

_Warnings: Light-bashing, Dark!Harry, surely you know the drill by now. _

_Disclaimer: I am not JK Rowling. Therefore, I do not own Harry Potter. Simple math, people. _

_A.N.3: I know the Ulama isn't very imposing in real life. It projects an illusion that keeps Muggles from seeing its true nature. In 'reality' it looks sort of like a phoenix, only darker and more reptilian (bear with me people, I'm not totally insane - yet). _

_A.N.4: I can now provide my first estimate of total number of chapters. If events continue at this rate, I think things should wind up at about twenty to twenty five chapters. Which, if I keep writing chapters this length, means a word total of roughly sixty thousand words. That's six times my longest previous fic. Somehow, this thing is becoming addictive. _

That morning, Harry, Ron and Hermione were not the only three to take seats at the Slytherin table. A lot of shuffling had gone on when the students started arriving, and by the time the Golden Trio arrived almost half of the Order of the Chimaera was ranged at the end of the Slytherin table. The rest of the students were muttering among themselves, clearly puzzled as to what was going on. Harry ignored them all, heading straight for his customary seat next to Draco.

"Everything's set." he said briskly, in answer to the Malfoy heir's questioning glance. Draco grinned.

"That was fast. What did you do, tell him you were ready to switch sides and then jump him?"

"He jumped me, really." Harry said, smirking in a very Slytherin manner.

Draco choked on his orange juice and Pansy let out an ear-splitting shriek of delight. "Oh Merlin, finally!"

"Nice one, Harry." Blaise drawled. "Frankly I didn't think you had the nerve. I'm pleased to see that I was mistaken."

Harry grinned at the compliment and let himself be drawn into the conversation about the Order's next move. A stray thought made his smile widen. _I wonder what Dumbledore's going to think when he finds out what I've done?_

...

"**THEY **_**WHAT?**_"

The cloaked informant trembled. "They - they have bonded, Headmaster." the voice whispered, quivering in fear.

After his initial outburst, Dumbledore remained utterly silent, sitting frozen at his desk as he stared blankly across the room. Just like that, seventeen years of constant work and relentless effort were wasted. Destroyed. Worthless.

Albus Dumbledore, however, was a man of many resources and much determination. He would not succumb to the bitter pangs of disappointment and despair. The situation might still be salvaged, if he played his remaining cards correctly. Certainly he would have to sacrifice a few pawns - but that was simply how the game was played.

"We must move quickly." he said quietly, a disturbing twinkle lighting his blue eyes. "We can no longer waste time attempting to coax Harry back to the Light: he must die. Summon the Ulamas. Direct action must now be taken. Return to your post, my dear: this means war."

The spy hastened from the room, wringing her hands in anxiety. How much longer could this madness go on? Sooner or later, things were going to come to a head - and the spy really didn't want to be in the crossfire when that happened. She had always had the worst of luck, though: she would probably end up being caught by Lord Voldemort himself.

Couldn't be much worse than what had already happened to her, though.

...

DADA was... interesting, to say the least. Considering that most of seventh-year Gryffindor had been inducted into the Order already, it was fairly common knowledge that Harry had spent the night with Riddle. This meant that Riddle's entrance into the classroom was met with a wave of mutters and giggles amongst his students.

Harry, still coasting on the emotional high from the night before, was oblivious to it all. Riddle appeared to have a hidden agenda, though, because he spent the class teaching them an ancient variant on the Shield Charm that even Hermione had never heard of.

Having already mastered the spell, Harry leaned back in his chair and ostensibly watched the rest of the class as he reached out with his mind. _Care to explain just what you've got up your sleeve this time?_

_You're rather suspicious these days, aren't you?_ came Riddle's answer, his mental voice laden with amusement. _As it so happens, however, I do have an ulterior motive. This spell, unlike the standard Shield Charm, will dull the cry of the Ulama. Nothing can block it entirely - well, nothing that I can teach, anyway - but this will keep it from being fatal. _

_That's what you were looking up last night, isn't it?_ Harry asked, struggling to keep the grin from his face. _You sly old snake. How Dumbledore ever managed to fool you I'll never know._

_Sheer dumb luck. And just who are you calling old, my little serpent?_ Riddle's voice had dropped to a dangerous purr. Harry felt a tingle of arousal shoot along his spine and shook his head.

_You're what, forty years older than me? Not that I'm complaining, you certainly didn't seem old last night..._

_You're going to pay for that later._ Riddle said, the statement somewhere between threat and promise. Harry stifled a laugh and settled himself more comfortably in his chair, propping his feet on the desk and smirking across the room at Riddle. The professor was rather harried this morning, trying to instruct three of his more hapless students at once, and his eyes flickered slightly red as he glared at Harry. The slight twitching of his lips, though, coupled with the amusement radiating through their bond, rather spoiled the effect.

Hermione had been watching Harry even while trying to learn the spell, and once she had it she dropped into her chair and said, "You're about as subtle as a Hungarian Horntail, you know that?"

Harry grinned at her. "Why should I be subtle? Almost everyone here knows already, and even if this gets back to the Headmaster he's hardly going to object. What's he going to do, fire Tom? I don't think so."

"Well, yes, but it's traditional to be a little more circumspect." Hermione said, smiling. She glanced over at Riddle. "He seems happier, you know. Less terrifying somehow. Maybe you're a good influence on him."

Before Harry could even open his mouth to reply, a searing wave of agony crashed over him. He was dimly aware of someone yelling as he hit the floor, writhing, his veins burning as though they were on fire. His mind filled with a terrible stuttering squeaking sound, like thousands of bats all chittering at once. He thought he heard whimpering underneath the cacophony, and wondered in a strangely abstracted way if that sound was coming from him.

"_Harry!"_

Strong arms around him then, shielding him from the unbearable noise. Harry opened his eyes, shaking from the aftershocks of the chaos, to find Riddle's silver eyes gazing down at him in considerable concern. Harry blinked, trying to focus his rather rattled mind.

"Wha- what happened?"

"I'll explain later." Riddle said grimly. He helped Harry back to his feet: the rest of the class was frozen, staring in horror at the classroom door. Following their gazes, Harry gulped.

Through the glass pane of the door he could see a mass of flitting shadows, passing back and forth across the door. Shadowy darkness, pierced with flashes of crimson: after a moment Harry realized that the shadows were not shadows at all, but black feathers clustered so thickly they seemed a single mass. He looked up at Riddle in shock.

"What are they?"

"Ulamas." Riddle said grimly, gripping his wand tightly in the hand that wasn't supporting Harry. "Dozens of them at least, more likely hundreds. They attacked in enough force that they shattered the wards: they're all over Hogwarts now."

Hermione was white-faced and shaking as she stared at the feathery chaos outside the door. "What are we going to do? We're trapped here!"

"No, actually, we aren't!" Harry said suddenly, recovering enough from his shock to start thinking again. "There's an old secret passage behind that tapestry, I think it leads to the Entrance Hall. Sirius and my dad used to use it, to get to class on time when they overslept."

Riddle appeared to come a decision and gestured briskly with his wand, causing the tapestry in question to swing out of the way, leaving the passage open. "All of your, back to your dorms, as quickly and carefully as possible. Stay there until a teacher comes to collect you. There are additional wards on the dorms that should keep the Ulamas out."

There was a minor stampede for the passageway, but only part of the class participated. Every Gryffindor who was in the Order stayed put, wands drawn and expressions determined. Ron spoke for them all. "We know that look, mate, you're thinking of doing something stupid and heroic again. We're not going to let you do it alone."

Harry was touched by their dedication, but he was picking up flashes from Riddle's mind again, and he knew what he had to do. "Sorry guys, but for now there's nothing you can do. Get back to the dorms, keep an eye on the others. I'll let you know the second there's something you can help with, I promise."

Reluctantly, the Chimaeras obeyed. Once they were alone Harry turned to Riddle, his gaze questioning. "You're plotting something. What is it?"

"Ulamas are the dark half of the most powerful magical birds, the reflection of the Phoenix." Riddle said, still eyeing the door warily. "Which means that their only natural enemy..."

"Is the Basilisk." Harry finished. "Great, there's just one problem. The Basilisk's dead."

Riddle glanced at him, a hint of amusement on his face despite the dire circumstances. "How many Basilisks did you kill?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "You've got to be kidding me. There's more than one?"

"At any given time there are twelve Basilisks residing in the Chamber of Secrets." Riddle said calmly. "Each time one dies, the Chamber's inherent magic prompts another of the dormant eggs to hatch. It's been five years, the replacement for the one you killed should be nearly matured by now."

Harry remembered the searing wave of pain that had incapacitated him. "Is that somehow connected to why I collapsed? Because I'm a Parselmouth?"

"Very good." Riddle said, smiling. "Yes. I was a target of the assault as well, of course, but my mental shields are far stronger than yours."

Harry felt a little of his panic drain away, replaced by the familiar lightning thinking that had helped him solve more than one major crisis during his time at Hogwarts. "So if there are twelve Basilisks, they could be used to chase the Ulamas out of the school. I though most Parselmouths could only control a few snakes at a time, though?"

"Correct again." Riddle said, nodding. "That's where you come in."

Harry felt a grin spreading across his face. "So between us, we open the Chamber, call up the Basilisks, and send Dumbledore's little pets packing." He looked up at Riddle and grinned wider. "I quite like this plan."

Riddle chuckled. "I thought you might. You seem to know the passageways here as well as I once did: do you recall any shortcuts from here to the second floor?"

Harry paused, a thought striking him. "Yes, but that could get messy pretty fast. Myrtle, the girl who died - she's still there, you know. She's been haunting the bathroom this whole time."

Riddle frowned. "That is a shame. I was rather rash in my youth and tended to act without thinking, but I never really meant for anyone to die. I had planned only to scare them... and I would never have risked the school closing. That's why I was forced to frame your friend Hagrid."

Harry thought it over for a minute, then shrugged. "Kind of late to worry about Myrtle, I suppose. If she freaks out we'll just have to deal with it. I think there's another tunnel in the Entrance Hall that goes up to the second floor."

Harry set out along the secret passage from the DADA classroom, Riddle close behind. He couldn't quiet suppress the thought of how surreal this was: sneaking around through the tunnels in Hogwarts accompanied by the Dark Lord himself, about to summon a dozen Basilisks to defeat a force of evil birds sent by Albus Dumbledore to attack the school.

So much for a calm, normal school year.

.

.

_Return of the evil cliffhangers! Don't worry, I won't leave you hanging for long. Not like last time, that's for sure. Roses are red, violets are blue, you want more story, then leave a review! _


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's Note: Whoops! Now I've been threatened with a resurrected Merlin! Note to self: prior to constructing cliffhangers, must set up defensive spells. Lots and lots of defensive spells. Sheesh, when will I ever learn? (Where have all the fanfics gone: long time passing... where have all the fanfics gone, long time ago...) Ah, right - virtual chocolate-chip cookies for anyone who recognizes what song that's a parody of! _

_Warnings: Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Oh, how I wish I did own Tom Riddle. *Sigh* That would make me one very happy dragon. As it is, I own nothing that has to do with Harry Potter. _

_A.N.2: Apparently I have a psychic reviewer! Either that, or it's simply a safe assumption that everyone who ever knew him had a crush on Tom Riddle. Now that I think about it, the latter theory makes sense... but yes, of COURSE Myrtle had a crush on him. He's simply too delicious NOT to have a crush on him. (Or at least, that's my story - and I'm sticking to it!)_

_A.N.3: I got a question from a reviewer as to why Draco already has the Mark when he's only sixteen. Answer: ask JK, I didn't make that part up. If you recall, in HBP, Draco shows Borgin his Dark Mark in Knockturn Alley. I believe it had something to do with his mission to kill Dumbledore: lucky for Draco, in this AU, old Dumbledork tripped himself up so Draco didn't have to kill him. _

_A.N.4: Ah, one of my reviewers hit the nail on the head as to the spy's identity... I can't say who just yet, of course, because that would be a spoiler for my own chapter, but I'll put in it at the end._

The second Harry and Riddle emerged from the tunnel into the Entrance Hall, they were set upon. Three Ulamas dropped from the ceiling directly over their heads, plunging down with claws extended. For the first time, Harry got a good look at them: they were each a bit bigger than an eagle, with glossy feathers of streaked black and crimson, their wings edged with flares of gleaming gold. Their longs, slightly curving talons glistened with a faintly luminous green liquid that dripped onto the stone floor, hissing and smoking where it landed. Out of instinct Harry shot a Stunner at one: the jet of red light hit the bird dead-on, but the Ulama merely rocked back slightly, spitting with fury but otherwise undamaged.

Riddle shouted a spell Harry had never heard before and a whiplike spray of purple light erupted from his wand, lashing into all three of the birds. They were flung backward, shrieking in fury: Riddle shot the spell at them again then gestured to Harry.

"Move!"

Harry obeyed, sprinting from the relative safety of the tunnel mouth across the Hall to the statue which hid the other passageway. Riddle followed close behind, still holding off the Ulamas with various spells. Harry shouted the password at the statue, which slid quickly aside, and moved to enter the tunnel.

At that precise moment, one of the Ulamas swooped down and flared its wings, hovering in midair as it opened its beak and unleashed an ear-shattering scream - the same sound Harry had heard in the corridor the day before. He could actually see it in the air, a cone of rippling distortion that expanded toward him: reflexively, he cast the altered shield charm that Riddle had just taught them in class.

The cone pierced the shield easily - but a few inches further on it rebounded off a shimmering silver bubble that had appeared out of nowhere, encasing both Harry and Riddle. Baffled but knowing better than to waste time in wondering, Harry ducked into the tunnel and pulled his lover after himself. The second Riddle was inside he turned and cast the counter-charm, shutting the passageway behind them.

They were plunged into cool, blessedly quiet darkness. Harry allowed himself a sigh of relief before he muttered, "Lumos."

As the soft light flared up Harry turned to Riddle, bewildered. "What was that?"

"A side-effect of our bond, I believe." Riddle said thoughtfully. "I shall have to look into this more, at a later date... for now, though, we must concentrate on the matter at hand."

Harry nodded and led the way to the second floor, his mind churning. Everything was happening so _fast_: the welcoming feast had been only days ago, yet already more had happened than in most of his previous years put together. In the space of mere days he had gone from being the Gryffindor Golden Boy, the Savior of the Wizarding World, to being the lover of the Dark Lord and the leader of a rebel Order. He commanded nearly half the school, including a few of the teachers, and he was the consort of Lord Voldemort. How quickly his whole life had changed!

He could not regret it, though. This was how things were meant to be all along: him and Riddle against the world. Together they would defeat Dumbledore, and bring peace to the Wizarding World: perhaps then, finally, Harry would be able to take a break from saving the world.

The passageway came out only feet from the bathroom they sought, and they made it inside without being seen by any more Ulamas. The sight that met their eyes inside, though, brought them to a standstill.

Moaning Myrtle was curled up on the floor by the sinks, crying her eyes out. Not the usual forlorn sniffles, either: she was full-on crying, ghostly tears streaming down her pale cheeks. The bathroom floor, however, was perfectly dry - normally when sulking Myrtle liked to pull all the taps off and flood the room, but there was no sign of that today. Harry stared.

"Myrtle?" he asked cautiously, gesturing Riddle to stay put as he edge forward gingerly. "What's wrong?"

"Harry!" The ghost looked up, her eyes huge behind her glasses and swimming with tears as she smiled tremulously. "You did come back!"

Harry smiled uncertainly. "Yeah, 'course I did. Why are you crying? Was someone throwing books at you again?"

Myrtle's lip trembled and she looked down at the floor. "No. I... it's nothing."

Harry frowned. "Myrtle, you're really starting to worry me now. What is it? Is it the birds?"

Myrtle's head snapped up and she let out a soft gasp of surprise. "The Ulamas are here?" she gasped, then her eyes grew even wider and she shrank back. Harry frowned, something clicking over in his mind.

"Myrtle, how did you know they were Ulamas?"

"Um- I-" Myrtle looked like she was about to break down into tears again at any moment. Harry wished she were still corporeal, so he could give her a reassuring hug: as it was, he settled for a gentle touch in the general vicinity of her arm.

"Myrtle, it's okay. Just tell me, alright? I promise I won't be mad."

Something seemed to give inside the dead girl, and she burst into tears. "I- I d-din't want t-to do it!" she wailed, burying her face in her arms, stuttering out the words between huge sobs. "D-Dumbledore m-made me! As Headm-master all the g-ghosts have to listen to him, and he p-put some kind of s-spell on me so that I h-had to spy on you! He d-didn't make me d-do much, but then when he left the s-school he m-made me follow you and t-tell him about your p-plans!"

Harry sighed. That explained the identity of the traitor - and also how the spy had known Harry's every move, even when his other friends weren't there to see what happened. Leaving the distraught ghost, he moved back toward the door, where Riddle was waiting.

"Myrtle's the one who's been feeding information on me to Dumbledore." he said without preamble. "She says he put some kind of spell on her when he was still Headmaster, and that it hasn't broken now that he's left Hogwarts. Do you think you can do something about that?"

"That depends on the nature of the spell." Riddle said, frowning. "I can certainly try."

Harry led him back to Myrtle. The ghost looked up, caught sight of Riddle - and scrambled backward with a shriek, her eyes huge.

"_T-Tom!_"

Riddle winced slightly at the piercing noise. "Yes, Myrtle, it's me." he said wryly. Harry could hardly believe what he saw next: Myrtle _blushed_.

"Oh. What are you doing here? I thought you were busy being the Dark Lord?" All traces of her tears had vanished instantly, and now she - was she _flirting_ with Riddle? The ghost was giving him an adoring look, practically batting her eyelashes: Harry shot Riddle a glance that was half bewildered and half horrified, and the older wizard smiled.

"At the moment, trying to get Dumbledore's little pets out of the school. And seeing what I can do about the spell he used on you." Drawing his wand, Riddle passed it slowly through the air over Myrtle's head, as though scanning her. Suddenly, he burst out laughing.

"Oh Merlin, I didn't think Dumbledore was really that stupid... perhaps dear old Albus is going senile in his later years." Riddle said, red eyes sparkling with mirth. He shook his head. "It's just a slightly modified form of the Imperius Curse - fairly obscure, granted, but hardly difficult to undo. _Finitus._" he added, tapping his wand on Myrtle's translucent head. Instantly the ghost sprang up, her eyes widening in delight.

"Ooh, thank you! The tugging feeling's stopped!" she paused, then pasted a coy look on her face. "However can I thank you, Tom?"

"Please, don't." Riddle said dryly, pocketing his wand and heading for the sinks, Harry hard on his heels. Myrtle drifted after them, pouting.

"Why ever not? It's been so long since I saw you, I've _missed_ you..."

Riddle completely ignored the simpering ghost and directed his attention to the correct sink, with the small curling serpent carved on the silver handle. "_**Open.**_" The Parseltongue rolled from his mouth effortlessly, and Harry forced himself not to shiver. Now was _really _not the time.

Five minutes later, Harry picked himself up off the rather slimy floor of the tunnel with a sigh of relief. "Merlin, I'm glad we're out of there. Was she like that when you were still in school?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Riddle said ruefully, also rising to his feet, though rather more gracefully than Harry. "Never quite that bold, of course, she was always a shy little thing - but yes, she could still be that embarrassingly obvious."

Harry shook his head in amazement. "And I thought _I _had it bad with my fan club. Although, there was that time Romilda Vane tried to slip me a love potion. That was kind of awkward."

Riddle had lit his wand and was scrutinising the tunnel for any signs of Ulamas: at Harry's words, however, he looked back over his shoulder at the teen, one eyebrow raised in amusement. "A girl tried to give you a love potion?"

"Yeah, she mixed into a batch of Cauldron Cakes and gave them to me for Christmas." Harry said, flushing slightly. "She wasn't the worst, really. Don't even get me started on Ginny Weasley. Thank Merlin I've managed to avoid her so far: I think she's been avoiding me too, really, I haven't seen except one time I passed her in the third floor corridor."

"Such is the curse of powerful, attractive wizards the world over." Riddle said dryly. Harry blushed fiercely and mumbled something unintelligible in reply as they started down the tunnel toward the Chamber.

When they reached the sight of the cave-in, Riddle glanced curiously at Harry. "What happened here?"

"Um, Ron and I brought our teacher Professor Lockhart with us." Harry said, squirming a little at the memory. "He turned out to be a fraud, though, and he was going to modify our memories and and claim he killed the Basilisk because he was too much of a coward to face it. Ron's wand was broken, though, and the charm backfired and erased Lockhart's entire memory instead - the ceiling came down from the blast, though, and Ron was stuck on this side with Lockhart while I was on the other side. That's why I ended up fighting the Basilisk alone."

Riddle stared at him for a moment, then he said quietly, "Your courage never ceases to surprise me, Harry. You were only twelve: your teacher tried to attack you and you still went on to fight the Basilisk? Just to rescue a girl you didn't even like?"

Harry blushed under his scrutiny. "I didn't hate her yet. Besides, I still believe Dumbledore's lies then." He frowned slightly, embarrassment forgotten as he considered the memory. "I don't think I would have done much differently, though. Even though I know what Ginny's really like, I still wouldn't wish that kind of destruction on Hogwarts - and I still wouldn't want the school to close. I'd do it for different reasons, but I'd still do it."

Riddle cleared most of the rock out of the way with a wave of his wand, shaking his head. "You truly are a remarkable person, Harry." Reaching out, he caught hold of the younger wizard's arm, pulled him close, and kissed him more tenderly than he ever had before. Drawing back, he smiled down into Harry's startled green eyes. "Perhaps that is why I find myself so very much in love with you."

Harry's eyes shone as he smiled up at Riddle. "Maybe. You know, I was scared half out of my mind and firmly convinced you were evil incarnate, but even then I thought you were really handsome."

Riddle chuckled. "I'm glad to hear it."

As the continued walking, a thought struck Harry. "Wait, there's one thing I never quite figured out - how did you see to direct it, when you can't look at it?"

Riddle smiled. "Actually, I can look at the Basilisk - as can you, in fact. We are immune to it's stare, by our shared Slytherin heritage."

Harry stared at him. "You're kidding. You mean the entire time I was trying to fight with my eyes closed, I could have been looking at it without being killed, or even petrified?"

Riddle nodded, and Harry swore. "Fuck, I wish I'd known _that_ at the time..." Riddle's chuckle echoed through the cold stone tunnel.

When they reached the Chamber of Secrets itself, Harry felt a chill run over his skin. Despite his new reality, the cold stone room was still brimming with memories - memories that were not diffused in the slightest by the sight of the massive, half-mummified carcass that lay sprawled across the Chamber floor.

_...a searing pain in his arm, the world growing dark, the young Tom Riddle's ice-cold mocking laughter as his lifeforce drained away..._

"Harry?"

Riddle's gentle, concerned voice pulled him from his memories. Harry swallowed hard, discovering that he was swaying slightly were he stood. Riddle was holding his arm and looking at him in open concern. "Are you alright?"

"Just - got lost in the memories for a moment." Harry said, forcing a smile. He couldn't suppress a shudder, though, when his gaze strayed back to the Basilisk and he saw the broken-off stump of a fang.

Riddle followed his gaze and his silver eyes widened. "What in Merlin's name..."

"Halfway through the battle Fawkes showed up, carrying the Sorting Hat." Harry said quietly, closing his eyes to avoid looking at the dead snake. "I pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the hat, but when I stabbed the Basilisk one of its fangs went into my arm and snapped off. It hurt, so much... I really thought I was dying..."

Swallowing hard, Harry opened his eyes and pulled up his sleeve. There on his forearm was a tiny, circular scar, almost invisible. "I thought I was going to die. Everything started to go black - but then Fawkes was there, and... the Horcrux was laughing at me, saying that Fawkes knew I was dying too, because he was crying..."

"Oh, Harry." Riddle's strong, warm arms enfolded him: Harry buried his face in Riddle's chest, some of the tension leaving his body as Riddle gently stroked his hair. "I'm so sorry."

"I know. It's not your fault, that was just - just a memory of you, trapped as a Horcrux." Harry said quietly, pulling back enough to look up into Riddle's silver eyes. "Besides, I got even - after Fawkes healed the wound, I stabbed the fang into the diary."

Riddle's eyes widened. "So _that's_ how you destroyed it, with a Basilisk fang. That must have been quite a sight."

Harry smiled slightly, remembering the ghostly teenage Tom Riddle vanishing in chunks, bleeding black ink. "Yeah, it wasn't very pretty." He drew a deep breath, calming, then a thought occurred to him. "Wait. The Basilisk didn't seem to want to listen to me last time: are you sure the other ones will?"

"It wouldn't have listened because it was already under my control, and you are only the Heir of Slytherin because of the part of my soul that is in you." Riddle said softly, smoothing Harry's wild black hair back from his face. "We won't be competing for their obedience this time, so they will listen just fine. Are you ready for me to call them?"

Harry drew a deep breath, then reluctantly stepped back, nodding. "I'm ready."

Riddle gave him an encouraging smile, then turned to face the massive carving of Salazar Slytherin. He inhaled deeply, then his voice rang out clear and strong, speaking the same words that Harry remembered so vividly from five long years ago.

"_**Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four!**_"

The stone shifted, the mouth falling open: a fearsome hissing sound boiled forth, and Harry unconsciously moved closer to Riddle, trying to calm his racing heart. His hand clenched tightly around his wand. _It's all right, this time they aren't coming for you: this time they're coming for Dumbledore..._

A massive, blunt-snouted head nudged out into the Chamber. Reflexively, Harry closed his eyes, but he remembered Riddle's words and opened them again, slowly. What he saw stole the breath from his lungs in wonder.

A tremendous serpent had slithered into the Chamber, rearing almost to the vaulted ceiling. Nearly fifty feet long, and as thick around as a tree trunk, it loomed above them. Its eyes were huge orbs of a yellow so vibrant it seemed to shine through the darkness, its scales a beautiful, iridescent green, with a gleaming red crest on its head. It swayed over them, haughty and proud, then slowly slumped back to the ground, a forked tongue flickering as it hissed softly.

One after another, more followed the first into the Chamber. The last to emerge was smaller, at least a foot narrower in diameter, its scales delicately streaked with black. By this point the Chamber was nearly filled: everywhere Harry looked were sleek coils and glistening scales and burning yellow eyes. The Basilisks were graceful and deadly and, to Harry's eyes at least, astonishingly beautiful. Through their bond he could sense that Riddle felt the same.

One of the serpents spoke. _**What is your bidding, Masters?**_

Harry blinked slightly at the plural, as Riddle responded. _**"There are enemies within the school - a foe has unleashed the Ulamas within these ancient walls.**_

Instantly the serpents broke into a storm of hissing and writhing: another one ducked its head down close to the two wizards, yellow eyes hot and eager. _**May we hunt them, Masters? May we devour them and teach them the error of their ways?**_

_Why don't you answer that one, my little serpent?_ Riddle's voice murmured in Harry's mind. The young wizard smiled, feeling the power of Slytherin's Heir surging in his blood. It was as much a part of him as his own magic, and the Parseltongue came to his mouth as naturally as breathing.

"_**Yes."**_

The Basilisks hissed in delight: the youngest slithered close to Harry, cool scales just brushing against him. _**You seem familiar, Master... have you come before?**_

"_**Just once." **_Harry hissed, curiosity drawing him to reach out and touch the Baslisk's scaly hide. The scales were smaller than he had thought, and astonishingly cool and smooth. The serpent clearly enjoyed the contact, curling a little closer. Riddle was watching, smiling, his silver eyes shining with what looked like pride.

_**You came, long ago.**_ another of the serpents hissed, sliding forward to nose at Riddle. _**You called on us to kill.**_

"_**There will be no killing of humans this time." **_Riddle said firmly. _**"The Ulamas are a far greater threat."**_ The Basilisks dipped their heads in serpentine bows.

Exchanging a look with Riddle, Harry hissed to the snakes, _**"Go now. Hunt the Ulamas that have intruded in our school. Harm none of the students, only the Ulamas."**_

_**Yes, Master.**_ the serpenst hissed in perfect unison, then they slithered off the to sides, entering the piping which lined the Chamber walls. Harry felt a thrill run through him at the ease with which the massive creatures obeyed: Riddle smiled at him.

"Intoxicating, isn't it?" he murmured, catching hold of Harry's hand and drawing him close. "You see love, we have nothing to fear. Now, come - we must guide our pets through Hogwarts, to be sure they find all the Ulamas."

Harry smiled up at him, emerald eyes gleaming excitedly. "What are we waiting for, then? Let's go!"

_Well, congratulations, Moonraven81! It is indeed one of the ghosts. Heh, I never really thought of Trelawney... nice idea, though. Kudos to all my readers who made so many wonderful guesses! _


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's Note: I have one thing to say, and one thing only, regarding the hellish delay in posting this chapter - which, I might add, has been mostly written for the last three days. Just four words. I. Hate. Real. Life. _

_A.N.2: So apparently, most people had their money on Trelawney as the traitor - go figure. Who knew she was so unpopular? And then there were the many readers who had Ginny pegged as the spy. Heh. I'm not quite that predictable, people. Glad the scene with the Basilisks went over well, wasn't sure about the bloodthirsty, yet sort of subservient personas I gave them. Erm, to the guest who reviewed about the category - you are absolutely right, this isn't really fitting into the horror category. It was meant to be a lot darker, but Harry distracted me with his big green eyes and hijacked my plot. So, I'm changing the category to Romance/Drama. That's what happens when, like me, you tend to let the story flow where it wants. Thank you for drawing my attention to that, I'd almost forgotten about the category. When I started it was meant to be more... horrific. Oh well. _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: I think I should own Harry Potter, since JK totally ignored the potential for slash with her characters, but sadly I do not. Such is the way of the world. _

_A.N.3: Hmm, some discerning readers out there apparently. Yes, I have still been calling him Riddle, haven't I? It's because Harry's the only one who's allowed to call him Tom - that ban on using his name extends to me too. He was very clear about that when I started writing this fic. Only Harry gets to use his first name. Fearsome dragon or not, I prefer not to argue with the Dark Lord. Especially when my story depends on his cooperation. I have touchy muses to begin with: the last thing I need is for '**His Lordship'** to get all offended with me. As to why Dumbledore is not in prison at the moment, he is out on bail, awaiting trial. It's not until the 17th of September, remember?_

_A.N.4: Oh, by the way... believe me, Ginny will be playing a part in this little intrigue. She doesn't **know** that Harry's sleeping with Riddle yet, you see. Once Dumbledore informs all the Order people of Harry's new allegiances... it'll be ugly. Attack of the Fangirls, anyone?_

A fair number of students had been penned in the Great Hall, and were under the assault of almost twenty Ulamas. The birds wheeled and dove above the terrified students, shrieking their deadly cries as their lethal talons lashed through the air. Spells and hexes flew toward the creatures, but nothing could bring them down: even the spells that hit their mark simply slid off the gleaming feathers.

Most of the students were huddling under the tables in a futile attempt to shelter from the attacking creatures, while Professors McGonagall and Flitwick attempted to beat back the birds. Lost in the clamor of the battle, no one noticed the approach of a scraping, dragging sound - but everyone noticed when the doors to the Great Hall were slammed open, reeling drunkenly on bent hinges.

Two fully grown Basilisks lunged into the Hall, their deadly yellow eyes obscured by mask-like bands of dark mist that clung to their scales. The screams of the students redoubled as the massive snakes rose up and towered over them, hissing, crests rising in aggression.

Harry stepped forward between the two serpents, wand directed at the Ulamas and the spell that Riddle had taught him dancing on his tongue, his green eyes blazing the color of the Killing Curse.

"_**Kill them!"**_ he hissed, the sibilant tones somehow ringing throughout the Hall more clearly than the loudest shout.

The Ulamas rose up into the air, moving into twin arrow-shaped formations, and dove. The Basilisks reared to meet them, fanged maws gaping.

What followed would later become Hogwarts legend, a tale recounted to each new group of First years, as infamous as the stories of the Forbidden Forest. Students would whisper in awe of how the Basilisk seemed to flow through the air like wraiths, everywhere at once, their fearsome jaws clenching shut around Ulamas and tearing the dark birds from the air. They would tell of how Harry Potter stood fearlessly at the serpents' sides, purple flames blazing from his wand to wrap around the Ulamas like fiery lassoes, yanking the birds down into the waiting mouths of the Basilisks. And many long years later, when no one who had actually witnessed it remained, they would still be telling awestruck tales of how, after the last Ulama fell, the two Basilisks returned to the doors of the Great Hall and laid their massive heads on the cold stone at Harry Potter's feet.

The Hall lay deathly silent for a moment. Everyone stared in awe at the two snakes, bowing down to the Boy Who Lived. Harry slipped his wand into his pocket and reached out, laying one hand on each serpent's snout.

"_**Well done, my pets." **_he murmured. Then he looked up, and fixed his gaze on McGonagall.

"Professor, I think it would be best if you and Professor Flitwick were to escort the students back to their dormitories. Tom and I will deal with the Ulamas, but it will be easier if we do not have to blind the Basilisks."

"O-of course, Mr. Potter." McGonagall said, stuttering just slightly as she began herding the students out from under the tables.

Smirking at the terrified expressions of the other students, Harry rested one foot on the side of one of the Basilisks necks, winding his hand into the surprisingly silky crest and bracing himself against the huge, ridged skull. _**"To the second floor, my pets."**_

_**Yes, Master.**_ they hissed obediently, their tones quivering with glee: the one carrying Harry lifted its head slowly and tilted slightly, allowing the young wizard to shift his other leg up so that he was straddling the back of its neck. They then turned and slithered out into the Entrance Hall, the students streaming close behind.

Another battle was just winding down in the Entrance Hall. The last Ulama was plucked from the air and swallowed whole by a Basilisk, beside which stood Tom Riddle. Harry nodded to him and called, "Great Hall's clear, Tom, I'll get the second floor - you take the third."

Riddle nodded, summoning the rest of the Basilisks back to him. The students watched in awe as the massive serpents came boiling into the Entrance Hall, then the snakes turned and began slithering their way up the grand staircase.

Harry and Riddle spent the rest of the day sweeping every floor in the castle clear of Ulamas. The Basilisks not with them in person were slithering through the piping to each and every chamber, leaving no stone unturned in their quest to root out their foes. Every so often they came across pockets of students who had been trapped when the attack came: not until they reached the fourth floor, though, did they find anyone who had been seriously injured.

They came across a knot students clustered in the fourth floor corridor. At the center, a group of Hufflepuffs were clustered together: many of the girls were crying. With a sinking sensation, Harry leapt down from his serpentine mount and hurried up to them.

"What happened?"

Ernie MacMillan turned to face him, tears running down his pale cheeks, his hand clenched so hard on his wand that his knuckles were dead white. "It's Hannah." he choked out. "She's..."

"Oh, Merlin." Harry breathed. Pushing the students unceremoniously out of the way, he beheld the motionless form of Hannah Abbott. She was crumpled on her side, her brown eyes wide open with fear, still and lifeless.

Anger roared up inside Harry like a raging inferno. It took every fiber of his will to hold it back, to keep his magic in check: grasping for an anchor, he flung his mind out toward his lover.

_Tom!_

_What is it, my love?_

_Hannah Abbott's dead, she was one of my Chimaeras - Dumbledore has to pay for this!_

A wave of calming energy, mixed with steely determination, flowed through their link. _He will, Harry. I swear, we will make him pay a thousand times over for the pain he has caused. Get your friends back to their dorms, then meet me in the Entrance Hall: the Basilisks found a pocket of Ulamas on the fifth floor, they're going to sweep down and drive them to the Entrance Hall. We'll finish it there. _

Harry's eyes snapped open, and he turned. The students were clustered loosely around him, pale and wide-eyed, waiting for his instructions. Harry fixed his gaze on Ernie and Justin.

"Take them back to your common room." he said quietly, his voice filled with quiet anger and firm authority. "Tom and I will finish with the Ulamas: when that is done, we will make our move against Dumbledore.

Harry scrambled back onto the Basilisk who had agreed to carry him and directed it toward the Entrance Hall, his heart beating fast with hatred. Come hell or high water, _something_ connected to Dumbledore was going to die today.

...

Albus Dumbledore was enjoying his morning cup of tea when Remus Lupin burst into his office, his face white as a sheet and his amber eyes tinged orange with the glow of the wolf.

"_What have you done?_" he shouted, his customary refined manner shattered into smithereens.

Alarmed, Dumbledore sat forward in his chair and set the teacup gently on the desk. "Whatever do you mean, Remus?"

Remus reached out with one hand, grasped hold of the delicate cup, and quite literally threw it out the window. "_**This!**_" he bellowed, thrusting a copy of the Daily Prophet at Dumbledore.

_**Heirs of Slytherin Save Hogwarts from Ulama Attack!**_ the headline screamed. Feeling as though he had swallowed a lead weight, Dumbledore skimmed quickly down the article - penned by none other than Rita Skeeter.

_It is no secret that during the last few years, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry has played host to a great number of dangerous magical creatures. All that paled, though, in comparison to yesterday's shocking revelation, when it was made public that Hogwarts had been invaded by a flight of Ulamas, resulting in the death of a student. _

_Lucius Malfoy, Headmaster of Hogwarts, gave the Prophet an exclusive interview this morning. "The death of Miss Hannah Abbott is a terrible tragedy, but the situation could have been so much worse." the Headmaster told this reporter. "Once again, the wizarding world must gives thanks to Harry Potter for his timely intervention."_

_Thanks are also due to Hogwarts' new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher, Professor Tom Riddle. It became known yesterday that Professor Riddle and Harry Potter share a rare gift: both men are Parselmouths, able to speak the language of snakes. It was this rare gift that allowed the duo to save the students of Hogwarts from a terrible fate. _

_Through circumstances as yet unknown, the pair found the entrance to the fabled Chamber of Secrets within Hogwarts and called on the monsters therein. Twelve Basilisks were unleashed from the Chamber, but remained under the tight control of Mr. Potter and Professor Riddle, who used the snakes as remarkably effective weapons against the ravening Ulamas. All the birds were slain, and the Basilisks returned to the Chamber without harm befalling any of the students save Miss Abbott, who fell victim to the Ulamas before she could be rescued. _

_When asked if he was concerned at the time about his ability to control the serpents, Mr. Potter gave this modest statement. "I wasn't thinking about my own danger at the time. The school was in trouble and I had to do something, that's all there was to it." Professor Riddle's sentiments were similar: "I've known of my gift for many years, although I never expected to encounter a student with the same ability. As Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, it is my duty to protect my students from all things Dark, and I can think of few creatures darker than the Ulama. I only regret we were not in time to save poor Miss Abbott."_

_Though nothing definite has been heard, rumors are rife that the Ministry is considering granting both Professor Riddle and Mr. Potter the Order of Merlin for Outstanding Valor. Praise has also been pouring in from grateful parents, remarking on Headmaster Malfoy's expert handling of what could have been an insurmountably tragic situation._

"You set the Ulamas loose on _Hogwarts_?" Remus snarled, his eyes growing more and more orange by the second. "You set them loose, _knowing_ Harry was there?"

Dumbledore sighed and laid the paper on his desk. Outwardly he maintained his mask of sympathetic calm and regret, but inside his mind was racing a mile a minute. How much did Remus know, or suspect? He had decieved Harry into believing that the werewolf was fully complicit in his plans, but in truth Remus had been told very little. He had protested strenuously against Dumbledore's plans after the elder wizard had suggested the possibility of Harry being sent to Azkaban. If he knew the full truth of the former Headmaster's schemes...

"Remus, old friend. Can you not see what has happened?"

Dumbledore gestured at the paper. "Tom Riddle is _Lord Voldemort_. He has corrupted Harry, turned him away from the Light. It grieves me more deeply than you could know, my friend, but we cannot allow Harry to become a figurehead for the Dark."

Remus's eyes flared fully orange and his lips drew back, revealing fangs. "You mean to kill him." the lycan breathed.

The older wizard froze. The look in those wild, feral eyes - in that moment, Albus Dumbledore knew that he had overplayed his hand. His long fingers twitched delicately toward his wand...

With a ferocious howl, Remus lashed out and swiped his claws across Dumbledore's chest. The old man was thrown from his chair across the room, but his hand closed around his wand, and he fired a desperate Stunning spell.

The Stunner missed its target, but it saved the wizard's life. With another infuriated howl, Remus spun and dove out of the window in a shower of breaking glass. Dumbledore regained his feet and rushed to the window, in time to see the werewolf cross the boundary of the wards into Muggle London and Disapparate without a trace.

...

...

_I swear, the next chapter WILL be up soon. Like, in less than two days soon. Hang in there, faithful readers! You unfaithful ones can drop off a cliff, of course. (Just kidding!)_


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's Note: I do so love having so many wonderful reviewers. I find I also love writing this fic. Needless to say, at the moment, I am a very happy dragon. Notice that I did indeed update again swiftly? Dragons always keep their promises, you know. Some of you may be wondering why I sound like I'm drunk or something, rambling about being a happy dragon. I have not slept in the last eighteen hours. I finished this chapter and started the next during that time span. So it wasn't a total loss. I should really stop talking now. Or typing. Whatever. You know. Eh. _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Me no own. _

The morning of the seventeenth of September, despite his hatred of mornings in general, Harry woke in a very good mood. This was mostly due to the fact that he had once again spent the night in Riddle's bed. He was awakened, in fact, by the feeling of his older lover trailing soft, suggestive kisses along his throat.

Harry arched closer to him, a low, unintelligible moan escaping him. "Mmm... that feels so damn good."

Riddle chuckled softly. "It ought to, I do pride myself on these things." the Dark Lord purred, reluctantly withdrawing his mouth from Harry's neck. "You overslept again, you know."

"I can't help it." Harry said rather petulantly, snuggling closer to Riddle's warm, muscular body. "I get nightmares when I'm not with you."

"Soon we won't ever have to sleep apart." Riddle murmured, stroking Harry's disheveled hair. "In the meantime, why not get Severus to give you a Dreamless Sleep potion?"

Harry flushed slightly. "Um... because I'm too paranoid." Riddle lifted an eyebrow, amused: Harry shrugged. "Too many people have tried to kill me too many times: I can't bring myself to take any potion that might make me sleep more deeply. I need to know that I'll wake up if something happens."

Riddle smiled faintly. "I can certainly sympathize. In our position, a certain level of paranoia is more than justified." He pressed a last gentle kiss on Harry's forehead then slid out of bed with serpentine grace. "Alas, unless you get going this minute, you're going to be late for class."

Harry grumbled under his breath at that, but as he checked his timetable a wicked grin spread across his face. "Oh good, I've got Potions first period - with the Slytherins! I wonder what Snape'll have to say today, about the new arrangements..."

All thoughts of the fun of tormenting his teacher were driven out of Harry's head, though, when he approached the Slytherin table. His friends all looked rather grim - and just a little bit skittish, as though waiting for a bomb to go off. Draco looked up, plastering a false smile across his face.

"Harry, morning..."

Harry frowned. "What's wrong?"

Draco, along with a few others, winced. "Ah... you're not going to like this." he said quietly. As Harry sat down, the Malfoy heir handed him a copy of that morning's Daily Prophet.

_**Albus Dumbledore Absent: Warrant Issued**_

"_Fuck!_"

Everyone within hearing jumped and flinched: Harry didn't swear all that much, but when he did, it was bad. Harry closed his eyes tightly, fighting for calm, reigning in his flaring magic. _Not now, not here._ Forcing himself to take deep breath, he skimmed the article.

It seemed that when the time of his trial arrived, Albus Dumbledore had simply not shown up. All efforts to locate the aged wizard had failed miserably, and no one had any idea where he was at present.

"Those _idiots_!" Harry hissed, his eyes glowing ever so slightly. "They didn't see this coming? I could've told them this would happen! Why the hell did they let him out on bail in the first place? Look at what he did in fifth year, for fuck's sake, the old coot's a flight risk to end all flight risks!"

A few people outside their little group were edging away from him, looking alarmed. Draco daringly laid a hand on Harry's wrist.

"Harry, relax. They'll get him eventually. On a brighter note, look at the next article."

Harry did, and felt his frustration ease a bit. He and Riddle had left one Ulama alive, turning it over to the Ministry of Magic: the day before, ironically during the funeral service for Hannah Abbott, they had definitively proven that the bird was acting under the orders of Dumbledore - via a powerful and highly illegal spell that hadn't been used in centuries. The charges of First-Degree Murder, Importing Dangerous Animals, and Use of a Prohibited Curse now joined the ever-growing list, along with some three hundred counts of Attempted Murder - one for every student in Hogwarts.

Harry smirked at that. "Well, at least when they catch him, he'll be headed straight for Azkaban." he said, handing the paper back to Draco. His friends visibly relaxed, and Ron grinned.

"They probably won't wait for a trial next time, they'll just take him right to the Dementors. Serves him right."

"Pity the wizarding world doesn't have the death penalty." Harry mused as he started in on his breakfast. Theo stared at him.

"You think that's necessary?"

"With Dumbledore? Absolutely. He's way too slippery: I'd much rather have him dead than locked up." Harry said, glaring at the picture of the old wizard that adorned the front of the Prophet - just in case there was one witch or wizard somewhere in Britain who didn't know what Dumbledore looked like.

At that moment, Lucius Malfoy stood to make an announcement. The Hall quieted instantly: the new Headmaster was already far more widely respected than the old. He smiled at the students.

"Good morning, all. I have a special announcement for you. In the wake of the unrest and sorrow that has gripped our school for the last few days, I feel that we all could benefit from a morale-booster. To that end, on Saturday night there will be a victory ball here in the Great Hall. Attendance is mandatory, for students and teachers both."

The Hall erupted into cheers. Harry smiled wickedly, already plotting. He'd seen the budding attraction amongst his little group of friends: this would be the perfect opportunity to make sure that things went smoothly. Hermione had tried to set him up often enough, now it was his turn.

...

Since the Ulama attack, guards had been posted at the gates of Hogwarts. Most people were under the impression that the guards were simply friends of Lucius's, or employees of the Ministry: in reality, Riddle had called in some of his most discreet Death Eaters. He didn't want anyone or anything that shouldn't be around getting near his new lover. Currently, Rodolphus Lestrange and Antonin Dolohov were on guard. Dolohov was still looking rather pale and sickly: Riddle had had him under the Cruciatus Curse for almost ten minutes straight when the Death Eater unwisely protested the Dark Lord's new relationship with Harry. He hadn't spoken a word since then, and seemed unlikely to do so in the near future.

The two guards were lounging against the pillars that marked the gateway, daydreaming about being the ones to find Dumbledore and bring him in, when the sharp crack of Apparition split the air.

Remus Lupin appeared, covered in small cuts and bruises, one eye swollen almost shut. He was holding his wand, but he slipped it back into his pocket when he saw the guards start up, and lifted his hands. "I'm not looking for a fight. I've left the Order. I'm here to see Harry."

Rodolphus frowned. "You're Remus Lupin." he said, eyeing the werewolf cautiously. "You say you've left the Order of the Phoenix?"

"Yes." Remus gestured to his eye. "A few of the Order members tried to chase me down. They regretted it. Moody probably won't be out of St. Mungo's for a week."

The Death Eaters exchanged glances, then lowered their own wands. "I'll have to take you to the Headmaster." Rodolphus said. "He'll want to confirm your story."

"Of course. I would expect nothing less." Remus said, relief clear in his eyes as he fell into step between the two Death Eaters.

...

Harry was in Charms, proving to Professor Flitwick that yes, he really could cast the immensely complicated Purification Charm, when Professor McGonagall entered.

"Mr. Potter, you're wanted in the Headmaster's office, immediately."

Harry was surprised, but nodded and rose. "Coming, Professor." He mouthed a quick _see you later_ to Ron and Hermione and followed the Transfiguration professor from the classroom.

The ridiculous passwords had gone with Dumbledore: the new password for the Headmaster's office was _Honour._ Harry thought it was rather fitting - the one thing that Dumbledore had clearly never possessed. Professor McGonagall had gone back to her own classroom, so Harry went up alone.

When he entered Lucius's office, the first thing he noticed was that Riddle was standing next to the Headmaster's desk. The second thing that registered was that the man sitting in the chair in front of the desk was Remus Lupin.

Harry froze. "Remus?"

The werewolf's amber eyes filled with tears as he turned to see his best friend's godson, but he couldn't find the words to say anything. Riddle was the one who responded. "It seems Dumbledore did manage to deceive us one last time, Harry. Your werewolf friend here was not, in fact, aware of Dumbledore's plans to kill you. When he heard about the Ulama attack, he was... most perturbed."

Emerald eyes widened in surprise and hope. "Really?"

Remus swallowed hard and forced his recalcitrant voice to work. "Harry, I swear I had no idea of what that old madman was planning. The night you left, when Dumbledore suggested that you might be sent to Azkaban - I was furious. I would never have let that happen. But then when I heard about the Ulama attack and confronted him... he said that we couldn't let you ally with Lord Voldemort, no matter what. I lost it. I never knew he was that _twisted_, and I'm so sorry..."

Riddle's voice murmured in Harry's mind. _We already tested him under Veritaserum, he's telling the truth. _

"Remus, it's all right." Hurrying forward, Harry wrapped his arms around the werewolf, hugging him tightly. "I should have known you wouldn't have gone along with that, I just thought that everyone except Ron and Hermione was turning on me. How much did Dumbledore tell you about what's been going on here?"

"Not much, but... is it true you're working with Voldemort now?"

Harry bit his lip to keep from bursting out laughing. Lucius had paled visibly at the question, and Riddle was smirking broadly, his silver eyes gleaming with just a trace of red. Harry couldn't restrain his grin.

"Um, Remus, didn't Dumbledore say anything about Professor Riddle? Or Tom, I might as well say?"

Remus blinked, then paled. "Oh. I almost forget. He did say something, right before I... but I wasn't really listening... you mean..."

"Headmasters don't usually rely on their Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers to give them instructions on what to do about potential allies." Riddle said dryly. "Lucius knows better than to leave me out of the loop, though."

"After what you did to Dolohov, I think it'll be quite some time before anyone pushes the rules." Harry informed him, grinning widely. "I think they assumed you were going soft, but you've definitely disproven that theory, love."

Remus choked. "WHAT?"

Lucius groaned and dropped his head into his hands. "Oh, Merlin. I thought it was just wild rumors when Draco said... oh, good grief. I really did not need to know that."

Harry smiled at Remus. "Relax, Remus, don't worry about it. I know what I'm doing. What are you planning on doing now that you've left the Barbecued Chickens?"

Lucius and Remus both succumbed to a fit of hysterical laughter at that. Riddle smirked. "That name seems to be gaining in popularity. You say it was Hufflepuffs that came up with that?"

"And Demelza Robins, she's in Gryffindor." Harry said, grinning. "We needed _some_ way to distinguish between them and the Chimaeras." In response to Remus's question look - the werewolf was too out of breath to speak - Harry laughed. "That's right, you don't know... I started an Order of my own. The Order of the Chimaera. It's mostly what's left of the old DA, but I've recruited some Slytherins as well. And yes, we're officially aligned with the Dark now. Being Lord Voldemort's consort tends to have that effect. Now, where were we?"

Lucius's face was rather red as he cleared his throat. "Ahem. In the past, during wartime Hogwarts has often offered asylum to those with nowhere else to go. If you would like to stay here, Lupin, you are more than welcome."

Remus looked quite startled, but also relieved. "That's - very kind of you, Headmaster. I would love to stay. I don't really have anywhere else to go, now that I've broken from the Order."

"Excellent." Lucius said, smiling. "In that case, I must politely insist that you all vacate my office - yes, even you, my Lord. I have a dance to plan, and I can't have you hovering. Oh, and Lupin, you'll be expected to attend as well: must set a good example for the students, you know." With that, the Headmaster shooed the three of them out of his office.

Riddle shook his head. "Once I've rooted out the last of the Barbecued Chickens, I may just have to let him keep this post, you know. He seems to be enjoying himself terribly."

"He's already doing a better job than Dumbledore, I think you should let him stay." Harry said, grinning. "After all, someone's got to run this place. You won't have the time, you'll be busy with your plans for world conquest."

"True." Riddle admitted. Harry noticed Remus staring at them, his mouth hanging slightly open, and the younger wizard grinned.

"You'll get used to it, Remus, everyone else has - more or less. I think Draco's still a little unsettled by it. Now if you'll excuse me, I have teachers to manipulate." Harry swept off, leaving a very stunned werewolf and a very amused Dark Lord.

Remus swallowed his shock and turned to Riddle, drawing himself up. "I want to make one thing clear. Harry certainly seems happy, and he's finally learned to stand up for himself, so I'm glad for him. But if you ever hurt him, Dark Lord or no, you'll have to deal with me. Clear?"

Riddle raised one eyebrow, amused, but also impressed. "Understood." he said, studying Remus curiously. Then, abruptly, he smiled. "I'm glad Harry has such steadfast friends around him - he'll need the support when the world at large finds out what's happened. I'm not deluded enough to think that my ideas will be popular at first."

Remus was amazed he hadn't been hexed into next week, but he managed a smile. "Good. I'm glad we understand each other." he said, turning to go.

He had only taken a few steps when he heard the Dark Lord's voice. "Oh, and Mr. Lupin?"

The werewolf turned. Riddle's eyes had turned crimson as he gave Remus a very dangerous smile. "The same goes for you."

Remus swallowed hard. "Understood." he said quickly, then turned and hurried away to his own quarters. Riddle smirked, then turned and swept off in the direction of his classroom.

Good to know he still had the touch.


	14. Chapter 14

_Author's Note: Quite right, happy authors do indeed update faster! Which leads to happier readers, which hopefully leads to more reviews, which leads to an even happier author. It's a self-sustaining cycle! Which is really quite convenient, if you think about it. Of course, at some point, real life steps in to wreck it. Not that that has happened to me. Not yet, anyway. I'm sure it will eventually. No, I still haven't slept. Why do you ask? _

_Warnings: Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly insane!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Oh, didn't you know? Apparently, Harry Potter is the property of some British woman. Go figure. So no, I don't own HP. Seeing as I live in Canada. _

_A.N.2: On a slightly (only slightly, mind) saner note... my plot bunny has fleas. Or, more particularly, **a** flea. A flea given to it by a reviewer, who planted this deliciously odd little idea in my head, where it promptly refused to vacate until I succumbed. I have a weakness for relating music to writing, I even go so far as to list 'soundtracks' for most of my fics: now I can't get the image of Riddle's reaction to Muggle music out of my head! Heh. I don't know whether to thank that reviewer, or curse them. I think I'll go with thanking them, I don't want to turn into Lord Voldemort after all... no, I was not suggesting that it would be a bad thing to be you, your Lordship! I just... no, really, that wasn't what I meant at all! I only meant, after all, if I turned into you then I couldn't very well write stories about your glorious triumph over Dumbledore, now could I? Yes, your Lordship. I will go back to singi- **writing** your praises right now, your Lordship._

_A.N.3: Be warned, I have a... curious... taste in music. Power Metal, Celtic/Folk, and Oldies Western-type curious. Blind Guardian, Rhapsody of Fire, Blackmore's Night, Heather Dale, Marty Robbins, Frankie Laine, to name a few favs. I like filk, too: Julia Ecklar is my favorite there, but Leslie Fish is really good too. I warned you, didn't I?_

Harry was in an exceptionally good mood that night, when he went to the Room of Requirement early to prepare for that night's lesson. As he went about setting up the targets they would be practicing on, he began to hum, inspired both by his own cheerful mood and the thought of the dance the following night. His humming grew louder, until without meaning to he found himself singing aloud.

"_Once upon a dark autumn night_

_I was so very far from sleep_

_I longed to walk beneath the stars_

_Into the wood so dark and deep_

_Neither myth nor faerie tale_

_Could keep me from the path to the maze_

_But eyes upon me I could feel_

_Hidden in the shadows watching always_

_Something in the darkness pulled me deeper_

_Something in the madness eased my mind_

_Was I awake or was I dreaming_

_Cut the strings that bind me to mankind_

_Once while I was sitting in my room_

_One cold and silver winter's day_

_I could hear an otherworldly call_

_Try as I might I couldn't turn away_

_Something in the darkness pulled me deeper_

_Something in the madness eased my mind_

_Was I awake or was I dreaming_

_Cut the strings that bind me to mankind_

_Somewhere in between the moss and the stone_

_The wind and the wood became my home_

_I lay myself down upon the green_

_When the ivy overgrew I could never leave_

_Something in the darkness pulled me deeper_

_Something in the madness eased my mind_

_Was I awake or was I dreaming_

_Cut the strings that bind me to mankind!_"

"What in the world was that?"

Harry nearly leapt out of his skin, his hand jumping instinctively to his wand before he registered that it was Riddle's voice. Sighing, Harry turned and glared at his lover. "You really, really need to stop sneaking up on me. You've wanted me dead for some sixteen-odd years, I'm still a little jumpy, okay?"

Riddle smirked and leaned against a bookcase, watching Harry with amusement. "You have a marvelous voice, you know. Strange song, but I rather liked it."

Harry flushed slightly. "I'm not _that_ good, and besides, don't change the subject! What are you doing here, anyway? I have an army to train, for Merlin's sake! I didn't think you even knew where this room was."

Riddle snorted. "I know this castle almost as well as you do, my young friend, and I didn't have a magical map to help me. Now about that song..."

"Oh, fine!" Harry said, exasperated, but also rather amused by his lover's persistence on such a trivial issue. "It's by Blackmore's Night, they're a Muggle duo that write and perform medieval-style folk rock. 'Mione talked me into listening to a bit of their stuff a few years ago, and some of their songs are really good. Happy now?"

Riddle frowned. "I didn't think Muggles had any good music. Are you sure they're Muggles?"

Harry sighed. "Yes. Relatively so, at least. Now really, what are you doing here?"

Riddle's smirk was back. "Well, it occurred to me that in a way we're both teachers now. You've had ample opportunity to observe my teaching style, but I haven't gotten to see yours yet. So..."

"Oh, no. So you decided you'd just drop by and sit in on this meeting." Harry completed, groaning. "Tom, you _do _realize that half of my Chimaeras are still terrified of you, don't you?"

Riddle smiled and moved away from the bookcase, prowling closer to Harry. "Then this is the perfect opportunity to prove to them that I mean no harm, isn't it?" he murmured, bending down to capture Harry's mouth in a heated kiss.

"Merlin's beard!"

Ron's involuntary yelp made Harry smile into the kiss, but he didn't pull away, and neither did Riddle. People were going to have to get used to them kissing sooner or later, might as well start the process now.

When Riddle finally let him up for air, Harry tossed a quick, wry smile at Ron and Hermione, who were standing frozen in the doorway. "Hey, guys. Apparently we've got a guest speaker for this meeting. He, ah... _talked_ me into it."

_Oh, so that's what you call it._ Riddle purred in his mind. Harry shivered slightly, but covered it well.

_No doing that during the meeting_, he replied sternly. _No groping me either - and no hissing things in my ear trying to make me blush! You want to stay, you keep your hands - and preferably your thoughts as well - to yourself. _

"As you wish." Riddle murmured, softly enough that the other two Gryffindor's didn't hear, but there was something mischevious in his silver eyes that made Harry quite uneasy.

Draco and his entourage were the next to show up, and the Malfoy heir nearly tripped over his own feet when he saw Riddle. "My Lord! What-"

"Don't talk to him, you'll only encourage him." Harry grumbled from the other side of the room. Looking over, all the Slytherins burst out laughing.

Harry had set up ranks of practice dummies for the Chimaeras to aim their curses at. This in itself was nothing new, but the dummies had undergone a small makeover. Each and every one had a moving photograph of Albus Dumbledore's face tacked onto their blank heads.

"I thought you lot could use some inspiration." Harry explained, grinning.

And inspired they were. As the Chimaeras trickled in by twos and threes, all were cheered by the sight of their now-enemy's face plastered across the target dummies. Although many were startled to find Riddle there, not once was there a protest. In fact, perhaps some of Harry's defiant spirit was seeping into all of them, because that night they trained as they had never trained before. Harry taught them one of the most dangerous curses that they had tackled so far - the Sectumsempra curse - and they excelled as never before. Harry was very glad he had come up with the idea of the photos: with Dumbledore's face ever-present, the feeling in the room was changed. Their hatred had a focus once more, a focus every bit as intense as their loathing for Dolores Umbridge had ever been. It reminded Harry strongly of those days, back when he had still believed that Dumbledore cared about him and that everything would one day work out perfectly, when he thought he would defeat evil and they would all live happily ever after. He hardly noticed Riddle's presence at all: he was lost in the familiar rhythms of teaching, basking in the thrumming energy of so many magical fields working in perfect harmony.

The time flew by as they were training, and nine o'clock arrived almost before they knew it. Harry gathered them for a last word. "Dumbledore's gone to ground for now, but he won't be idle. Don't let your guard down, no matter how long it takes for him to make his next move. We stay alert, and we train, and we do _not_ forget what put us in this position in the first place."

"Hear, hear." Ernie called out, grinning. "Such wise words, oh mighty and benevolent leader!"

Harry smirked. "Mighty, yes. Benevolent, hardly. Now get out of here, before Filch catches you and I'm forced to turn him into a toad."

The meeting broke up amidst general laughter and high spirits. Blaise lingered, though, looking ever so slightly uncomfortable. Harry knew him well enough by now to be aware that a slightly uncomfortable air meant the Italian boy was a mess on the inside. Harry gave him a quizzical look. "Something on your mind, Blaise?"

After checking to make sure the others were all gone, Blaise finally spoke. "Ron Weasley." he said abruptly. "Is he seeing anyone?"

Harry grinned. "Merlin, Blaise, you'd better be careful - you're getting predictable. No, Ron's not seeing anyone. No, there's no one _else_ that he likes. Yes, I'm sure he'd be delighted if you asked him to the dance."

Blaise blinked. "Really? And what do you mean, predictable?"

"I figured out you were interested in him on the train here." Harry said, rolling his eyes. "Go ask him already, I'm sure you can catch him on the way back to the Tower. Oh, and tell Theo that Hermione likes him too, but she wants to wait for him to make the first move."

Blaise gaped. "How-" then he shut his mouth and shook his head. "Never mind. I don't want to know. Thanks, Harry."

"Anytime, Blaise." Harry said, grinning as the Italian turned and took off out of the Room, heading towards Gryffindor Tower.

"That was elegantly done." Riddle observed, moving out of the shadows, where he had faded back during the later part of the lesson. "You have quite a flair with people, my little serpent. That will definitely come in handy."

Harry smiled. "Being around the Dursleys, I had to know the warning signs, so I got to be pretty good at ready people. Did you know Bellatrix Lestrange is in love with you?"

Riddle grimaced, looking revolted. "Yes, more's the pity. Sane or not, she's a bit _much__**. **_And of course, she's female."

"And she's not me." Harry pointed out, smirking. Riddle smiled wryly.

"Yes, and she's not you." he murmured, drawing Harry into his arms. "You're becoming a bit arrogant, my little serpent."

"That's what comes of associating with Dark Lords." Harry purred, wrapping his arms around Riddle's neck and kissing him deeply. "Now, why don't we take this somewhere more comfortable?"

Riddle chuckled. "As you wish, my love."

...

"Hey, Ron!"

Ron and Hermione both turned, thinking it might be Harry - but it was Blaise Zabini, of all people. He hurried up to them - in that elegant, non-hurrying way that all Slytherins perfected, of course - and said, only mildly short of breath, "Could I talk to you alone for a minute?"

Hermione's eyes grew to the size of saucers, and before Ron could form anything coherent she exclaimed, "I'll see you back in the common room, Ron!" and practically bolted, beaming from ear to ear.

"What the hell?" Ron said rather blankly before turning back to Blaise, smiling cautiously. "What's up, Zabini?"

Blaise actually looked a bit nervous as he cleared his throat. "I... I was wondering if you'd like to go to the dance tomorrow with me."

Ron froze, his blue eyes widening. "Wait, you mean - like, like a date?"

"More or less." Blaise said warily. He needn't have worried: Ron's face instantly turned the color of his hair, and he stammered out his response.

"Oh - um - yeah! That, that sounds great! Uh, what time?"

"I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall at quarter to seven." Blaise said, grinning now. Slytherin charm, it never failed. He sauntered off toward his own dormitory, smiling all the way. Ron fled toward Gryffindor Tower, red as a beet and practically crawling out of his own skin with excitement. He actually had a date! With a guy he actually liked!

Lavender Brown was going to _die _when she found out.


	15. Chapter 15

_Author's Note: Well, let's just see how many of my readers I can shock with this chapter. It's getting weird, people, let me warn you of that. Strange relationships abound herein. And I do mean strange. Like, I-think-Headmaster-Malfoy-spiked-the-punch strange. Ye be warned! (I think this, too, is a product of the sleep-deprivation. Therefore, not really my fault.)_

_Warnings: This chapter will contain some minor, non-graphic femslash. Also Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly Dark!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: If JK saw what I was doing to her characters, she'd probably cry. No, they aren't mine, I just like to play with them now and then. _

_A.N.2: Really? My ramblings are entertaining? And here I thought I was merely proving my insanity... it ended up being three nights without real sleep, because I didn't sleep the next night either. I'd been sneaking in twenty-minute catnaps here and there, but nothing more. (You want proof of how tired I was? It took me twenty minutes to realize that I'd originally written 'catnips' instead of 'catnaps' in that last sentence.) And no, it was not just because of my fic-writing spree: it was actually something of a crisis at work. Don't ask. It wasn't pretty. _

_A.N.3: Heh, yes, good luck to Snape indeed. Don't worry, he'll be finding some romance too: someone's got to love the poor bastard, after all. Just wait until you find out who, though! _

_A.N.4: Apparently, I've gotten a few people quite interested in Blackmore's Night. Always happy to spread the love of music! On that note, I will be continuing the singing theme for a short time - this chapter, and the next. You'll see what I mean. _

Starting at breakfast the next morning, the school was in chaos. Everyone was running like chickens with their heads cut off, scrambling to get a date for the dance. Harry watched it all with amusement: he knew it was only a matter of time before the person he wanted to go with asked him. All he had to do was wait.

As it was a Saturday, the students were able to devote their full attention to said scrambling. Ron was strutting around the Gryffindor common room like a peacock, preening over the fact that Blaise Zabini - _the_ Blaise Zabini - had asked him to the dance. According to the gossip mills, Lavender Brown was seen in the girl's bathroom crying her eyes out and wailing about her 'poor, confused Ronniekins'. Harry applauded his friend's style, then went about his own business for the day: playing Cupid for some very stubborn Slytherins and Gryffindors.

First on his list of people to set up was Hermione. He found her in the library, of course, poring over a textbook. He also found Theodore Nott in one of the aisles, pretending to browse while in actuality he was staring at Hermione.

"What are you waiting for?" Harry asked in a low tone, moving to examine the shelf next to Theo. The Slytherin glared at him.

"Hermione's a sensitive girl, Harry, I can't just walk up and ask her to the dance without talking with her first! I don't know what to talk about, though."

"Okay, you want a common interest?" Harry scanned the shelf quickly, then grabbed a copy of _Hogwarts: A History._ "Have you read this thing?" When Theo nodded, Harry continued, "It's her favorite book. Tell her you were curious because of what happened the other day, and that you were re-reading the section on the Chamber of Secrets. She'll take it from there."

Mouthing a heartfelt thank-you, Theo took the book and made his way to the table where Hermione was sitting. Within minutes they were deep in conversation. Smirking, Harry left the library. One down, several to go.

His matchmaking tasks were put on hold, however, just after he crossed through the Entrance Hall on the way to the Slytherin dorms. In the middle of the corridor on the other side, he was accosted by the fanatical sector of the Harry Potter Fan Club.

Ginny Weasley, Romilda Vane, Cho Chang, and Parvati Patil were standing in a tight cluster, faces set in determination, arms folded and wands in hand. Harry had to fight back a groan: this was not how he wanted the day to go. Fixing a polite smile on his face, he stopped and nodded to Ginny.

"Hello, girls. Something I can do for you?"

"Actually, it's what _we_ can do for _you, _Harry." Ginny said brightly. Her tone was cheerful, but there was a gleam in her eyes that Harry didn't like at all. "See, we know you don't have a date yet, and we thought you'd help you out."

"You can't go to the ball without a date." Cho said, beaming at Harry. "So we thought you could take one of us!"

"We know you like all of us." Romilda said, grinning widely. "I mean, you dated Ginny, and Cho, and you would have dated me if your friend Ron hadn't interfered."

"And you already took me to the Yule Ball!" Parvati added, batting her eyelashes at him. "So you can take any one of us!"

"And the rest of us won't be jealous." Ginny added, tossing her hair back over her shoulder and smiling coyly at Harry. During this little speech, Harry was trying desperately not to be sick. Did they _really _think that it was going to be that easy?

"Look, that's a really sweet idea." Harry said, deciding to try diplomacy first. "But I already know who I want to go with, so..."

"Oh, don't be silly, Harry." Cho cut in, shaking her head gently. "You should go with one of us!"

Just like that, Harry's patience ran out, and he dropped the facade. "Cho." he said firmly. "I will not be going to the dance with you. I will not be going to the dance with _any_ of you. In fact, I will not be going to the dance with any girl. So please, stop wasting my time."

Harry started to walk, intending to push past them, but they closed ranks and glared at him. Ginny raised her wand, suddenly threatening. "Harry, this for your own good."

That did it. Those words, in that tone... fury welled up inside him, his eyes starting to glow...

"Excuse me."

The icy voice shocked Harry out of his fury. Riddle had materialized out of nowhere at his side, and the professor's silver eyes had turned completely, searing scarlet. Harry felt a wave of calm sweep over him as his soulmate's presence stabilized his aura: Riddle seemed to be having quite the opposite effect, though, on the four girls who had accosted Harry.

All four of them looked rather pale, but Ginny actually took a step forward, her chin lifted and her expression truculent. "What do you want, Professor?"

"I suggest you watch your tongue, young woman." Riddle said coldly, laying a protective hand on Harry's shoulder. Harry smirked inwardly, knowing that Ginny was about to get her just desserts. "Now, why are you accosting Mr. Potter?"

"We weren't _accosting_ him!" Romilda began defensively, but Harry snorted.

"_Please, _if I was acting like that toward you I'd be up on charges of sexual harassment. You just get away with it because you're girls."

"You're being so unreasonable, Harry!" Cho started, but she quailed at the enraged look from Riddle.

The older wizard drew his wand, his eyes blazing crimson and his voice dropping into a threatening hiss. "Clearly, you have no idea exactly who you are speaking to. I would advise you all to vacate the premises immediately, before you are the victim of any... _unfortunate accidents._"

Harry allowed himself a small smirk as he drank in the shock and dawning fear on the girls' faces. "I'd listen to him if I were you. Or didn't Dumbledore warn you before he left?"

"What are you talking about?" Ginny snapped, her eyes narrowing. "Why would he warn us?"

Harry smiled. Something in his expression obviously hinted at his mental state, because all four girls involuntarily stepped backward. "Really, Ginny? Shake off that pathetic Obliviate Dumbledore used on you. Look at Tom - really, really look."

Ginny frowned and looked up at the Professor's face. Riddle, despite his rage, was fighting down a smirk of his own. He so loved it when his little serpent was being devious. Slowly, a look of utter horror blossomed across Ginny's face, and she began to back away, her face turning deathly pale.

"Oh, Merlin... _Tom Riddle!_ But - you're-"

"The Dark Lord?" Riddle murmured, amused at her fright, wrapping an arm around Harry's waist and drawing the young wizard against his side. "Indeed. And you, Miss Weasley, are antagonizing my consort. An extremely ill-considered decision on your part."

Parvati looked like she might faint. Romilda Vane was actually swaying on her feet. "The - the Dark Lord? _Consort?_" she squeaked, terrified. Cho was the first to regain some of her wits, at which point she bolted toward the Headmaster's office.

She didn't make it more than five steps before a wordless spell from Riddle sent her crashing to the floor, unconcious. The others stood paralyzed with fear, watching Riddle with the look of the proverbial deer in the headlights. Riddle smirked.

"_Somnus._" he muttered, and the other three also dropped before they could say a word. Harry looked up at his lover, curiosity in his green eyes.

"What are you going to do with them?"

Riddle eyed the girls in distaste. "Much as I'd like to simply kill them, I dare not risk it. Such powerful magic inside the wards of Hogwarts would be sure to leave a mark."

Harry considered it, his mind turning over rapidly. "Will it be a problem if they just vanish?"

"Not particularly, we could always blame that on Dumbledore as well. What are you thinking, my little serpent?" Riddle asked curiously, staring down at him.

Harry let a smile of pure evil spread across his face. "We really ought to thank the Basilisks for their efforts - I imagine they're rather like house elves. They'll still serve you even without thanks, but they'll give you their undying devotion if you show them a bit of kindness. I never liked any of these girls in the first place, really - especially Ginny. Ron's disowned her, so he wouldn't really mind: why not give them to the Basilisks?"

Riddle's eyes shone as he tightened his hold on Harry and kissed him, deeply and thoroughly. "_**You always manage to surprise me, my love.**_" he hissed softly in Parseltongue, running his fingers through Harry's messy raven locks. "_**Ordinarily I loath being surprised, but once again you have made yourself the exception.**_"

Harry laughed, his eyes glittering cruelly as he melted against Riddle. His heart was pounding with excitement at the thought of finally getting rid of Ginny: the others were just icing on the cake, although he did really hate Romilda Vane for trying to poison him with a love potion. He'd told more or less the truth concerning Ron: the second-youngest Weasley had indeed disowned his sister. That didn't mean Harry was going to flat-out confess that he'd fed her to a Basilisk. What Ron didn't know wouldn't hurt him - or Harry, for that matter.

Riddle stole another swift kiss then smiled at the younger wizard, his eyes now silver again, glittering playfully. "I seem to recall you making a statement about knowing who you wished to attend the dance with. Care to elaborate?"

Harry grinned. "Well, it's traditional for the older person in the relationship to ask..."

"I rather think you just invented that tradition, my little serpent, but I'll let that go." Riddle said dryly, cupping Harry's chin lightly in his hand and tilting the young man's head back. "Well, my love, would you like to go to the dance with me?"

"Absolutely." Harry purred. "As much as I'd love to also accompany you in delivering these pests to the Chamber, I have things to do. I need to speak to a couple of Slytherins about certain Gryffindor-ish traits like courage and brashness. If you'll excuse me, _my Lord_..."

"You are an insolent little serpent, aren't you?" Riddle drawled, releasing him. "Very well, go play matchmaker. I'll see you this evening."

Harry shot him a quick grin and skipped off down the hallway, humming softly under his breath. He felt even more exuberant than he had before being accosted by Ginny and her cohorts. Before long, he'd started singing again, his cheerful mood showing in his choice of song.

"_In times long past lived a Man of green,_

_And his footsteps brought life wherever he'd been._

_In the deepest wildwood was the place he was seen,_

_And the people did love and protect him._

_And they saw his face change, with the turn of the Wheel_

_Of the Seasons, they heard his voice sing._

_I'm the Horned God,_

_I'm the face in the trees,_

_I'm the breath of the wind that rustles the leaves,_

_I'm the Green Man _

_In the wildwood I roam,_

_Cernunnos, I'm Pan and I'm Herne..."_

"Bloody hell, Harry. Where did you learn to sing like that?" Draco Malfoy had just stepped out of the Slytherin common room a few meters down the hall, and was now staring at Harry in wonder. Harry grinned, letting his voice trail off at the end of the chorus.

"Natural talent, apparently. I always thought I was rubbish, but it's starting to look like I was wrong."

"I'll say." Draco said, his eyes wide. "You know, Father said he was planning a portion of the dance where anyone who wanted to could sing - he said something about it being a great opportunity for romance. You might want to consider it."

Harry grinned. "I'll keep it in mind. Now, speaking of the dance - who are you going with?"

The pale young man instantly flushed, his gaze dropping as he started to fidget. "I, ah... I haven't asked anyone yet."

"I see. Who do you _want_ to ask?" Harry inquired, smirking. Draco's blush deepened, and he stared even more fixedly at the floor.

"I'll tell you, but please don't tell anyone else yet, alright? I - I don't want it getting out before I'm ready."

"Alright, I won't tell. Who?"

Draco gulped and muttered something under his breath. It was rushed and indistinct, but sounded an awful lot like 'Longbottom'.

"Neville?" Harry exclaimed, startled in spite of himself. "Seriously? I thought you... oh, wait. Let me guess. You pick on him because that way he notices you, but you're not giving away that you're interested in him, right?"

Draco looked ashamed. "Yes. Before this year... it wasn't acceptable for a Slytherin to like a Gryffindor at all, much less for a Malfoy to like a Longbottom. That's changed now, but I've spent the last six and a half years being horrible to him. How could he possibly like me?"

"I have it on good authority that, at the very least, you've got a good chance." Harry informed him. In reality, he'd had it firsthand from Neville all the way back in fourth year, when the inept boy was bemoaning the fact that he got stuck taking Ginny to the Yule Ball instead of the person of his dreams - namely, one Draco Malfoy. Draco looked up, his blush receding slightly as his eyes brightened with hope.

"Really?"

"Definitely. You should talk to him - Blaise is taking Ron, and Theo's going to ask Hermione, if he hasn't already. You won't be the only one."

Draco's eyes shone and he beamed at Harry. "Thanks, Harry. I'll go talk to him right away. Where is he?"

"Probably down at the greenhouses, he loves plants." Harry said with a shrug. "Do you know where I could find Pansy?"

"She's in the Great Hall helping with the decorating." Draco said, tilting his head and looking at Harry curiously. "How did you know about Blaise and Theo? Are you running around playing matchmaker or something?"

"Something like that." Harry agreed blandly. "For the first time, I already knew who I was going with, so I decided to help some other people out. Go talk to Neville, I'll see about Pansy."

He caught up to the girl in question just as she emerged into the Entrance Hall, seemingly lost in thought. He hurried up to her. "Pansy, could I have a word?"

She looked up and grinned. "Harry! Sure, what's up?"

"Well, I'm kind of playing Cupid for the time being." Harry said, grinning right back. He knew Pansy would figure it out in ten seconds flat anyway, no point in trying to deceive her. "Do you know who you're going with?"

"Oh, yes." Pansy said, beaming. "I asked her right after breakfast, she said yes right away."

"Great!" Harry exclaimed, not really surprised. Pansy was a very bold girl, and she didn't really have a gender preference at all. "Who's the lucky girl?"

"Oh, hello Harry." Luna drifted out of the Great Hall and serenely took hold of Pansy's hand. "Are you having good luck setting people up?" the blonde girl asked, planting a light kiss on Pansy's cheek.

Harry couldn't hold back a wry chuckle as Pansy flushed a delicate pink and beamed. "I should have known. Yes, I've had very good luck so far. In fact, that just leaves... hmm. I wonder if Remus has found anyone?"

With that thought, Harry set off for the guest quarters. Had he known what was coming, he might have thought better of his little matchmaking mission.

...

...

_The song Harry was singing in the dungeons is "Noon of the Solstice" by Damh the Bard, from the album Spirit of Albion. Another marvelous artist, and a truly wonderful song. _


	16. Chapter 16

_Author's Note: ARRRRRGH! I am a very, **VERY **angry dragon! I just suffered my first flame - on one of my Coldfire fics, which I did not expect. I didn't think anyone was even reading those, for heaven's sake. I was accused of stealing from another author, which I think is extremely rude. Just because I came up with a similar idea (on my own, I might add) doesn't mean that I am stealing from them! Worse, it wasn't even the author themselves who accused me, just some random anonymous reviewer who saw fit to attack me! Oooh, I'm FURIOUS! I swear, when I get through with them... grrrr. They're going to be toast. Literally. Toasted flamer, my favorite delicacy. Mwahaha! Okay. Now I feel better. On with the fic! _

_Warnings: This chapter will contain some minor, non-graphic femslash. Also Slash, Light-bashing, sympathetic!Voldemort, increasingly Dark!Harry, some swearing._

_Disclaimer: Last time I checked it said "J.K. Rowling" on the book covers. Besides, it's kind of hard for a dragon to get a copyright. So HP still belongs to her, not me. Tragic, isn't it? _

_A.N.2: Damn, the psychic reviewer strikes again! Werebunny, I swear you must be telepathic. And here I thought I was being sneaky and utilizing my dragon cunning. *pouts* How the hell did you guess? Unless it was just dumb luck, or you guessing the weirdest pairing you could think of, in which case I don't feel so sheepish. I don't like feeling sheepish. I eat sheep, I don't feel like them. It's not dignified for a dragon to feel sheepish... ye gods, I sound like a fruitcake. Really, I need to get out of this vein. On with the fic, for real this time! _

When Harry arrived at the corridor that led onto the Hogwarts guest quarters, he heard voices coming from just around the corner. Intrigued, his old instincts kicked in and he stopped, pressing himself back against the cold stone as he listened intently.

He recognized Remus's voice. "I'd love to, you know that, but... it's a little public, isn't it?"

"Really, Rem, you're being ridiculous." Harry knew the second voice as well, but he couldn't quite place it. For some reason, though, it made him nervous. "There's always a chance of a small scandal, of course, but I'm frankly quite sick of pretending we don't get along. Since you'll be staying at Hogwarts now, I want to be able to show affection without worrying constantly."

Harry froze, eyes widening. Remus already had a lover? That was wonderful news, as far as Harry was concerned, but he was puzzled. Who was that other man?

"I'd like nothing better, you know that, I'm just worrying as usual." Remus said rather dryly. "What about your son, though? I don't think he's all that fond of me. I don't want to cause trouble for you, Luc."

Harry almost choked. For a wild moment he was sure he'd heard wrong, but the next sentence dashed that hope. "Draco will be fine, Remus. He's known for some time that I was seeing someone, he understands. Narcissa has already said that she supports us in going public: the Ministry loves me, no one will object to our relationship. Now please, Rem, will you accompany me to the dance?"

"Oh, very well." Harry could hear the laughter in the werewolf's voice. "If only so that I don't have to watch you with some airhead witch who just wants to brag that she danced with a Malfoy. You realize that the one we actually have to worry about it Harry?"

"Merlin, yes." Lucius said, sounding suddenly apprehensive. "I would have been nervous even if he was still the Gryffindor Golden Boy, but now... his Lordship has never taken a lover that we know of, Rem. Now he's going around referring to Harry as his _consort_. It's rather nerve-wracking, really: every time I talk to the boy he sounds more like his Lordship."

"I noticed that myself." Remus said thoughtfully. "I think it's been good for him, though. He's finally standing up for himself: he could have defied Albus years ago, but he was holding back. Now, he's chosen the side he really believes in and is finally using his power. I think it's a good thing he's friends with Draco now: hopefully, he won't find out about this until the dance, so he'll have some time to think it over before he tracks us down."

Smirking, Harry slipped around the corner and stopped in the open doorway to Remus's quarters, lounging against the doorframe, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "In that case, you should have used a Silencing Charm, Moony."

Remus and Lucius had been sitting together on the couch in front of the fireplace: when Harry spoke they both leaped to their feet, stammering out explanations. Harry lifted one hand, laughing.

"Relax, relax, both of you. Remus, honestly, what do you take me for? It's about bloody time you found someone, and I'm hardly going to criticize your taste, I'm sleeping with the Dark Lord for heaven's sake. Lucius, did you say your wife knows about this?"

Lucius nodded quickly, his face rather pale. "Ah, yes. Ours was an arranged marriage - after Draco was born, we agreed that we'd both seek our... _entertainments _elsewhere. I believe she's been seeing Apolline Delacour for the last few months."

Harry chuckled. "Well then, I don't see any problem with this. And Lucius, I think Draco's going to be just fine - providing you cut him some slack as well. Apparently, there's a certain someone he's had a crush on for ages, that he's asking to the dance tonight: go easy on him, okay? He's a little nervous, because the someone's a Gryffindor. And in case you didn't know, he isn't as straight as he keeps saying he is."

Remus and Lucius shared a chuckle at that, and the elder Malfoy shook his head. "I figured as much. He was protesting just a little too much, really. Ah... how much did you hear?"

Harry smirked. "Well... it isn't really my fault I sound like Tom, you know. Now that we've acknowledged our connection, we're kind of... melding into each other, you might say. We're picking up each others mannerisms and habits, speech patterns too, to some extent."

"Oh, Merlin." Lucius dropped his face into his hands. "And I thought his Lordship was bad for hearing things you don't want him to..."

...

"Well, Harry? How do I look?" Ron asked nervously, tugging on one cuff.

Harry looked over at his best friend and smiled. Gone were the hideous, maroon, lace-trimmed dress robes of the Yule Ball: Ron had finally relented and let Harry buy him new dress robes, though he had no idea how much Harry had actually paid. The new set were a blue so dark they were almost black, just colorful enough to really bring out Ron's blue eyes. Harry grinned.

"You look great, Ron. Much better than fourth year, that's for sure."

Ron eyed him enviously. "Thanks, mate, but I still look like a bloody goblin next to you."

Harry burst out laughing. "Ron, that's patently ridiculous. I'll admit I look pretty sharp, but you look great too."

Harry himself was wearing closely tailored robes in jet black, overlaid with the faintest shimmer of iridescent green. Giving up entirely on trying to tame his hair, he'd gone the other way and used gel to spike it slightly, making it stylishly messy instead of just regularly messy. He'd also used a temporary corrective charm, so his glasses were abandoned on his bedside table for the evening. Examining himself in the mirror, Harry had to admit he looked pretty damn good.

Everyone in the school was rushing about, making final preparations for the dance. So far, no one had even missed the four girls who'd accosted Harry: he wished he could be there when Dumbledore realized they were gone. Currently Harry, Ron, Dean Thomas and Neville Longbottom were fussing over their appearances in their dorm.

Neville had refused to tell them who he was going with, and was now adjusting his jet black robes over and over again, nervous almost to the point of terror. "Harry, this collar just won't sit right!" he practically wailed. Harry sighed, walked across the room, and grasped Neville's shoulders gently.

"Neville, listen to me. I know who asked you to the dance already. He's liked you for years, and he's just as nervous as you are. So don't worry about it. You look just fine."

Neville looked like he might cry. "You - you really think so?"

"Absolutely." Harry said, smiling. Dean looked over, startled.

"Neville, you too? Merlin, seems like every guy in this room's going queer!"

"Yeah, well, they say Merlin might have been less than straight as well." Harry retorted, smirking as he flattened out Neville's collar. "There, you look great. Go knock 'im dead."

"Thanks, Harry!" Beaming, Neville set out for the Great Hall. Ron stared at Harry.

"Who the hell is he going with, anyway? The way he's acting you'd think it was really big news!"

"It is really big news, Ron - for the whole school, not just Neville." Harry said, smiling. "I think a lot of people are going to be losing money tonight. He's going with Draco."

Ron's face went white, then green. "_**MALFOY?**_" he spluttered. Dean and Harry both burst out laughing at the redhead keeled over against the wall, looking like he was about to pass out from horror. "M-Malfoy and Neville? OH GODS! Where's Hermione, I need her to Obliviate that image immediately! I didn't want to know that! HERMIONE!"

Ron and Dean went down to collect their dates then proceeded to the dance, but Harry loitered in the Entrance Hall. The teachers and their dates were entering last, to create more of an impression. As Harry waited near the doors to the Great Hall, he heard someone call his name.

"Harry! Are you waiting for Professor Riddle?"

Harry turned around to find a beaming Demelza Robins standing next to him. She was wearing a full-length gown in vivid cyan, and looked quite stunning. Harry grinned.

"Yeah, I am. Who're you going with?"

She blushed delicately. "Well, actually... oh, there he is now! Severus!"

Demelza swept across the Hall to where Snape had just emerged from the passageway to the dungeons. Harry almost choked. Demelza and _Snape_? Snape had a date? Was the world still turning?

"Shocking, isn't it?" Riddle murmured, apparently materializing from thin air next to Harry. He was dressed elegantly but simply, black robes trimmed in silver. Harry smirked slightly

"Yes, actually, it is. Demelza's been going on for years about this wonderful older guy that she had a crush on, but I certainly didn't think she was talking about Snape! Oh, well. Maybe now he'll loosen up a bit, eh?"

Riddle chuckled. "You never know." He looked down at Harry, his smile widening. "I must say, you look absolutely stunning, my love."

They bantered back and forth for a bit while the other students filtered into the Great Hall. Apparently, once Riddle had come back from the Chamber of Secrets, he had spent the rest of the day being bombarded by invitations from giggling, blushing girls - and more than one guy. Harry felt the green-eyed monster clawing at the inside of his chest again, and vowed that he wasn't budging from Riddle's side all night, which made the handsome Professor smile wryly. Finally, all the students had entered the Great Hall, and a magically enhanced voice echoed through the room. The voice, oddly enough, belonged to Colin Creevey.

"And now, witches and wizards, put your hands together for the folks who made it possible: the Professors of Hogwarts!"

"Merlin, who put Colin in charge of the commentary?" Harry groaned under his breath as Professors McGonagall and Sinistra linked arms and swept in, greeted by what sounded like moderately thunderous applause. Riddle smirked.

_Look on the bright side, my little serpent,_ he purred in Harry's mind. _At least this way, he might not have his camera with him._

Harry was forced to stifle an unbecoming giggle.

At last, only he and Riddle were left. Harry drew himself up, braced himself for the mass astonishment of the students, and accepted the arm that Riddle offered. Exchanging one last smile with his lover, they stepped forward into the Great Hall.

...

...

_Yes, I know, you all want to kill me now. Next chapter will be up soon: I just couldn't wait any longer to update, it was eating at me. _


	17. Chapter 17

_Author's Note: Oh God, what a week. I am so very sorry for the disastrously long gap between updates, but some really insane stuff was happening in real life. I was in a car crash a few days ago, and I just got back from the hospital: my leg's in a cast but it's not broken, just a bit... chipped, you might say. Some idiot drunk driver plowed into me head-on, and I was pretty lucky to only get a concussion and an injured leg. I had this chapter all sketched out and ready to be typed up and posted right after I updated my Dragonlance fic, but needless to say, after the accident I completely forgot everything else. Because of that, it might be a while until my next update. Again, sorry for the wait, but fate was definitely fucking with me this week. (Eh, pardon my foul mouth.) Oh, and thank you all so much for your support of my writing: I feel much better now, I've completely put that flamer out of my mind. People like that just aren't worth my time. (Especially when I have to concentrate on my mystical dragonesque healing abilities.)_

_A.N.2: Oops. I appear to have made a slight error: that'll teach me to play so fast and loose with loyalties. Yes, Hermione did say on the train that Parvati was still on Harry's side. That was a typo. I'll have to go back and correct that: she was meant to be one of Harry's obsessive fangirls all along, but Padma is on Harry's side. I guess I just forgot that when I was writing chapter four. Good catch, MisteryMaiden! _

_A.N.3: On a happier note - **HUZZAH**! I am not the last living fan of old-time music! Thank you Cherrie-san, for recognizing that (apparently obscure) reference in Chapter Eleven! Yes, it is indeed Where Have All The Flowers Gone - my personal favorite being the version by the Kingston Trio, of course. My mother also used to sing that to me, beautiful song. I'm so glad someone recognized it! I was starting to think that oldies music really was dead! (She says after having listened to Marty Robbins "Gunfighter Ballads and Trail Songs" on vinyl for the last six hours.)_

_A.N.4: Wow, I'm really going crazy with the Author's Notes this time. Anyway, there may be a horrendous amount of typos in here: I'm so high on painkillers I can barely see straight. Plus, as a certain canny reviewer pointed out, cookies aren't good for dragons - and between my reviewers and my friends dropping by the hospital, I've eaten half my body weight in cookies over the last few days. Urgh. The one problem chocolate **can't** fix. _

Shocked silence fell across the Hall. With the speed of events for the past weeks, there hadn't even been time for rumors to spread: with the exception of the Chimaeras and a few teachers, everyone was completely blindsided by seeing Harry Potter arm-in-arm with Tom Riddle. Riddle looked utterly unperturbed - he was probably very used to being gawked at - but Harry felt a momentary flutter of nerves when hundreds of eyes turned toward them. He quelled the sensation forcibly. It was all well and good for Harry Potter the Golden Boy of Gryffindor to be shy around people, but not for Harry Potter, Consort of the Dark Lord. So instead of retreating, he drew up his walls of confidence and pride, and let a self-satisfied smirk settle onto his lips.

Someone in the crowd wolf-whistled, and that broke the spell. The students broke out into the loudest round of applause yet. Harry let his smirk turn playful as he gave the students a royal wave: they cheered even louder, and he saw a few of the Chimaeras break down laughing. He spotted Susan Bones, newly released from the Hospital Wing, standing next to Ernie Macmillan and beaming. Next to Harry, Riddle was radiating amusement as he resumed walking and led Harry to the edge of the dance floor with the other teachers. Lucius had decided that the teachers and their dates would open the dance - damn him - so Harry was once again stuck with starting the dance.

_Enjoying the attentions of your adoring public, my little serpent?_ Riddle said softly through their link. Harry bit the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning too broadly.

_Yes, for once. I'd much rather get attention for being with you than for being the Boy Who Lived. _

_And no wonder. I __**am**__ devilishly handsome._Riddle added in a completely serious tone. Harry resisted the urge to punch him and managed to keep his face straight, but it was an effort.

_You'll pay for that later._

_Don't make threats you can't back up, my love._

_Oh, believe me, I can back it up. Just you wait. _

Lucius took the enchanted microphone from Colin, putting an end to Harry's mental flirting with Riddle. "Welcome, one and all, to the Victory Ball! Our very own Hogwarts professors will be starting the dance, feel free to join in any time. That's all, and enjoy the evening! Musicians, hit it!"

This time around, the Weird Sisters were nowhere to be found. Harry was deeply grateful to Lucius for that: he'd hated the group with a passion since the first time he heard their music, and that feeling had only intensified after the disastrous Yule Ball. This time Lucius had gotten ahold of another wizarding group that Harry hadn't heard of before, called the Disciples of Herne. They had set up on a makeshift stage that had taken the place of the teacher's table. They started playing a soft, almost medieval-sounding tune: unlike most of the Weird Sisters' music, it was actually_ musical_. Riddle guided Harry out onto the dance floor as the other teachers did the same for their partners, and the dance officially began.

Riddle lead, thank Merlin: Harry found it a lot easier than his last dancing experience. He concentrated on the steps, his movements slightly stiff, until he sensed Riddle laughing at him in his mind. _Relax, love. Just go with the flow._

Harry obeyed, and found it even easier, even enjoyable. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that he actually _liked_ Riddle - was in love with him, in fact - whereas he'd only asked Parvati out of sheer desperation. Soon other couples joined in, and the slightly formal atmosphere relaxed into exuberant celebration. Alcohol flowed freely for those in seventh year or older, and soon most of the teachers were pleasantly tipsy.

Harry and Riddle danced for most of the evening, until Lucius detached himself from Remus long enough to grab the microphone again. "And now, the part you've all been waiting for - the "You Sing It" portion of the evening! The roster is drawn up of all those who submitted their names: when your name is called, come on up to the stage and start belting out those lyrics! _Hic!_ Go to it!" At this point Remus, taking pity on his less-than-sober lover, wrestled the microphone away from the inebriated Headmaster and nodded to the giggling students.

"Just get on with it, you lot." he said, eyes twinkling.

Colin stole the mic back and started reading out names. Student after student got up to sing, almost all of them choosing sappy love ballads, although Ron surprised them all by singing _Only the Music_ by Heather Alexander. Harry was the only one who knew that Ron had learned that song specially for Blaise - he'd learned that the Slytherin liked Muggle music and had begged Harry to find a suitable song, one that was romantic without being too lovey-dovey. Judging by the smile on Blaise's face, Harry's choice had been a success.

When Colin called out Harry's name, Riddle looked at his younger lover in surprise. Harry just grinned, reluctantly left the professor's arms, and headed for the stage. The applause was near-deafening as he took the microphone from Colin: drawing a deep breath, he nodded to the band, and launched himself into the song he'd picked. It was by one of his favorite Muggle artists - although he rather suspected she might not be a Muggle herself.

"_Have you ever been on the road between holds,_

_As the sun falls away, and the darkness turns cold_

_And the moon will not rise 'til the night has grown old_

_And the only things left are the stars?_"

Harry could feel Riddle's eyes locked on him, but he didn't make eye contact: he knew if he did he'd lose his place in the song. Hermione was near the front of the crowd, arm-in-arm with Theo, shooting him a dazzling grin and two thumbs-up. Smiling, Harry sang on.

"_Those born as the heir, those who rule up above_

_With a kingdom forever held fast by their love_

_With all they can do, it will ne'er be enough_

_To reach the impossible stars._

_Those born for the earth, who do work by their hands,_

_They sweat and exert their will over the land,_

_When the labour is done, their fatigue does demand_

_That they rest while the moon courts the stars._

_Those born to the sea, with its roll and its swell_

_Know the faces and names of those patterns so well_

_And each night on the ocean's a story to tell_

_But the only observers are stars._"

It was only a love song in the most abstract way, but there was a beauty and delicacy in the lyrics that was hard to match. Drawing a deep breath, Harry finally looked at Riddle. The silver eyes he knew so well were shining with unspoken emotion, and Harry smiled as he sang the next verse just for his lover. He knew that Riddle would understand exactly what he was trying to say.

"_And those born with the fire within, burning bright,_

_Are inspired by moonglow, so cool in the night_

_And the fiery passionate sun shares her light_

_But there's no lady gentle as stars._"

Raising his voice, which had softened instinctively on the last verse, Harry swept his gaze back out over the crowd, encompassing them all as the song wound to a close.

"_So to those of low bearing, and those born to fly,_

_To those who sweat, sing and sail under the sky_

_As we're born and we love, we grow old and we die_

_Watch impassive, eternal, the stars:_

_As we're born and we love, we grow old and we die_

_Watch impassive, eternal, the stars._"

The last notes faded away, and the Hall erupted into applause. Harry bowed, smiling until his face hurt, then passed the mic back to Colin and descended from the stage. He wound his way through the cheering crowd until he reached Riddle, smiling up at the older wizard. "What did you think?"

For just a moment, if he hadn't known better, Harry might have thought that there were tears in Riddle's eyes as he murmured, "Beautiful." Harry grinned, knowing that Riddle had indeed understood.

A few more performances followed, then Colin looked at the next name on his list and almost choked. After wrestling for a moment, he squeaked, "Pr- Professor Riddle!"\

Harry's jaw dropped. Riddle gave him a quick smirk, then slipped away to the stage. Harry blinked in astonishment: Riddle could sing? Suddenly, the full strangeness of the situation washed over him: he was at a dance in the Great Hall of Hogwarts, surrounded by students he was secretly training into his own private army, having defeated an attack on Hogwarts by Dark creatures under the command of Albus Dumbledore, about to listen while _Lord Voldemort_ sang a love song.

It was official. The entire world had gone stark raving mad.

Perhaps unsurprisingly, Riddle had a gorgeous singing voice - a rich, melodious baritone that had every nearly girl in the Hall melting and emitting lovestruck sighs. Harry melted right along with them. Sweet Merlin - not only did Riddle sing, he was _good._

When the first notes echoed through the Hall, Harry was sure he was hallucinating. That couldn't possibly be the song he thought it was. When Riddle started to sing, however, he realized that he wasn't imagining things: it was indeed the song he had thought it was. A love ballad that was about as sappy and romantic as they came: it had been written from the point of view of King Arthur, singing for Guinevere, but it was astonishingly fitting for Riddle and Harry's situation as well.

"_I suppose that I look different without the robes and crown_

_I come this day before you with no riches, no renown_

_For here I am no leader, I am just a humble man_

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am_

_I'm not looking for perfection, I'm not offering a saint_

_I'm not looking for a pretty bird to put in some restraint_

_The only thing I want is that you love me if you can_

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am_

_I offer you a look inside, I offer you that trust_

_I need your strength to help me fight the battles that I must_

_I need you to remind me of the light we bear within_

_That there's more to life than struggle and the things we seek to win_

_Don't take me out of duty, don't take me out of pride_

_Just take me if the man you see is one you'd stand beside_

_I'm offering an open heart, I'm asking for your hand_

_And I only ask you take me, you take me as I am_

_You take me as I am._"

Harry _knew_ that there were tears in his eyes as Riddle finished. He applauded along with the others, tears running silently down his cheek, and a radiant smile on his face. Riddle passed the mic back to Colin, who was outright gaping, and moved through the crowd - who were cheering themselves absolutely hoarse - to stand in front of Harry. He smiled down at the younger wizard. "Well, what did _you _think?"

"I think this lot can do without us for the rest of the evening." Harry said, his green eyes sparkling wickedly as he dragged his lover out of the Hall. A wave of laughter ran through the room, and Colin stuttered.

"Um - uh - apparently Professor Riddle's song was a success!"

Lucius staggered up on stage, grabbed the mic from Colin, and started in on his own song. Unfortunately for the ears of the students, Lucius Malfoy was _not_ possessed of any previously concealed musical talent, and had a voice that rivaled the musical saws of the Hogwarts Ghost Orchestra. Almost as horrific was his song choice, which sent most of the student body into peals of laughter.

"_I saw a werewolf with a Chinese menu in his hand_

_Walking through the streets of Soho in the rain_

_He was looking for a place called Lee Ho Fook's_

_Gonna get a big dish of beef chow mein..._"

Needless to say, Riddle was not the only teacher being dragged out of the Hall by their lover, although he was the only one likely to enjoy the experience.

...

...

_There we go, the long-awaited update! Harry's song was "Stars" by Heather Dale, from the album The Green Knight. Riddle's song was "As I Am" also by Heather Dale, from the album Trial of Lancelot. As if anyone needed to be told, Lucius's song was "Werewolves of London" by Warren Zevon. Poor, drunken Lucius. He's not getting any for about a week. _


	18. Chapter 18

_Author's Note: Aww, thanks for the sympathy, guys! I really appreciate it. Terribly sorry for the posting delay - yet again - but apparently the hospital where I was treated is infested with flesh-eating bacteria. Charming, eh? So yeah. I was in the hospital, again, trying to get rid of that before it ate my leg to the bone. And then my aunt came by, along with my seven cousins, and we had a big family reunion/pity party. On the plus side, the cast is coming back off in a week or so, and I should be just fine soon. Once my flesh regrows, that is. And the last of the fractures set. Man, what I wouldn't give for a bottle Skele-gro right now. _

_A.N.2: I'm glad that lots of people liked my song choices: I've loved 'Stars' for years, but for some reason Heather Dale is one of those artists that has their own little cult following and not much outside of that. Really, she deserves to be world-famous - if only for writing Stars, Mordred's Lullaby, and The Prydwen Sails Again. (Talk about haunting beauty. The Prydwen Sails Again is also about Arthurian legend, specifically Arthur's quest to retrieve an enchanted cauldron from Caer Siddhe, the land of the dead. That tune still give me shivers.) _

_A.N.3: When I say the Celtic Punk version of Loch Lomond - that'd be the Real McKenzies, folks. Best version of that song in the whole world, in my opinion, which probably very few people share. You never know, though. _

_A.N.4: Werebunny, you hunt the sucker down, I'll bring the squeaky hammers! Ha! Man, that review cheered me up. Thank you so much!_

The victory ball did not wind down with the departure of the Boy Who Lived. Indeed, it was as if Harry and Riddle's abrupt exit - combined with the Headmaster's dreadful attempt at singing - was the signal that all bets were off. That night too would become a part of Hogwarts legend, and tales of it would still be circulating in centuries to come.

No one remembered all of what happened thereafter. Flashes of it remained clear, different parts for each person: some people remembered when Fred and George Weasley showed up at half past eleven (because obviously they'd die before they missed a good party), even though nobody knew how they'd gotten into the grounds, and started wreaking havoc with their Wizarding Wheezes products. Others remembered when a plastered Draco Malfoy and equally plastered Neville Longbottom keeled over in the middle of a dance, and ended up making out on the floor for a good fifteen minutes, before they remembered where they were and Draco dragged a crimson-faced Neville out of the Hall toward the dungeons to an enthusiastic round of applause. Quite a lot of people remembered when McGonagall flung her pointed hat across the room, declared that she had always hated "that damned pixie-dust twinkle" in Dumbledore's eyes, then proceeded to actually bully the band into playing the Celtic Punk version of Loch Lomond. The sight of Minerva McGonagall dancing _on top of_ the Slytherin table with Professor Sinistra would be burned into the memories of quite a few students - mostly those from the younger years, because the seventh years were too sloshed to even notice.

Ron Weasley hadn't made it back to his own bed until four o'clock in the morning. This delay was courtesy of a very enthusiastic Blaise Zabini. Some people hadn't made it back to their own beds at all, but most of Gryffindor house was accounted for by sunup. Neville Longbottom had _not_ shown up, but nobody was thinking about that. Partly because they would have avoided thinking about it anyway, and partly because they were all soused to the gills and sleeping off the effects.

At precisely ten minutes to Too-Goddamn-Early-In-The-Morning, the dormitory door banged open and Harry practically danced into the room, singing at the top of his lungs.

"_Lead me down to the sea_

_To where the sirens call and where the waves are raging free_

_Sing for me, all of your sweetest melodies_

_And then let me drown into your arms, into the sea..._"

"_**WHAT THE FUCKING HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?!**_" Ron bellowed, sticking his head out from under his pillow, his expression irate. Everyone else in the dormitory moaned in agony as Ron's shout drilled into their rather epic hangovers, and Ron himself cringed from the reverberations inside his own head. Harry flung open his trunk and started rummaging about the interior. He smirked at Ron's outburst, and at the tortured groans from his housemates, but didn't relent in the slightest.

"_Hear the sirens of the sea_

_They're calling for our hearts and they will have them eventually_

_Sing for me, all sirens of the seven seas_

_Take me away, lead me astray in your deceitful ways..._"

"SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

That came from Dean. Harry cackled. He actually, honest-to-Merlin cackled.

"Rise and shine, boys, it's a bright new day out there! You'll have to get up soon: there's an Order meeting in half an hour, Tom had an absolutely brilliant idea for practicing on live targets. C'mon, up and at 'em!" Taking out the Marauder's Map, his Invisibility Cloak, and a hefty stack of Defense textbooks, Harry balanced the whole mess in his arms and kicked his trunk shut. He then strolled out of the dormitory, leaving the door open behind him, singing all the way down to the Common Room.

"_Hear a thousand voices calling me_

_Down by the deceitful sea_

_They sing for me_

_The sirens of the seven seas_

_Their eyes are all fixed on me_

_I heard you call my name_

_On a stormy day_

_From beneath the waves_

_I watched you slip away_

_And I knew it was far too late..._"

Harry's voice faded to tolerable levels as he actually reached the Common Room. Ron gave a blissful sigh and burrowed back under his pillows. It was Saturday morning, the morning after a huge party: he wasn't getting up early for anything. What was Harry going to do, give them detention?

Unfortunately for the hung-over young men, preoccupied by his chatter, they had failed to notice Harry placing a special little spell on the alarm clock. Fifteen minutes later...

"_**HUNTER, WE'RE HERE TO PRAISE YOUR NAME**_

_**BLAZING SUN AND A BITTER DEATH,**_

_**YOU'RE A GUARDIAN 'CROSS THE GATE**_

_**WAKE UP: IT IS A NEW DAWNING**_

_**WAKE UP - THE WITCHES WAIT**_

_**FOR YOU: REMEMBER THE MIRROR**_

_**WHEN SHE LOOKED IN, YOU WERE BORN**_

_**IN THE VOID, IN THE MIDDLE OF NONE...**_"

The not-so-dulcet notes of Blind Guardian's "Turn the Page" - in Harry's voice, no less - blasted through the room, at such a volume that the poor alarm clock vibrated in place on the nightstand. Bouncing and rocking in time to the beat, it looked like it was performing an Irish jig to the song. Ron forsook his wand, knowing that by the time he thought of the proper spell he would either have killed himself or been murdered by one of his housemates. Instead, he launched himself bodily out of bed, snatched the clock, and threw it with all the skill of a Keeper out of the open window. The song faded swiftly as the clock plummeted, but it was still just barely audible when the singing stopped abruptly and the sweet sound of shattering glass and screeching metal reached the boys.

Now _that _was music to their ears.

They eventually dragged themselves down to the Common Room, moaning and groaning as their heads throbbed painfully. Hermione was waiting for them by the fireplace, looking a little wan herself.

"That was quite the night, wasn't it?" she said, yawning widely before smiling dreamily. "I had a lovely time with Theo. Did Harry say why he was calling a meeting?"

"Something about live targets." Ron grumbled. "What's got him in such a good mood, anyway?"

Hermione rolled her eyes, then winced. "Honestly, Ronald, you can be so dense. First of all, he and Professor Riddle left early, so neither of them got very drunk: unlike us, Harry doesn't have a raging hangover. Second of all - _he and Professor Riddle left early_."

"Oh." Ron went rather red, and Dean grinned.

"Don't know why you're acting bashful, mate, it was four in the bloody mornin' before you turned up, drunk as a skunk and looking like you just got shagged."

Ron, miraculously, didn't rise to the bait. After a moment more of good-natured bickering, they agreed to make an attempt for some sustenance. On their way to breakfast they encountered an eerily cheery-seeming Snape, who was prowling the hallways distributed Hangover Potions. No one dared speculate on the source of his good mood. There were some things that just didn't bear contemplating.

The atmosphere in the Hall was rather subdued, given that even with the potions most of the students' heads were still rather tender. Lucius came in ten minutes after Ron and Hermione, looking dreadfully green, and staggered up to the High Table to make an announcement.

"Ahem. Students of Hogwarts, from this day forth, there shall be a school-wide ban on singing. I understand some of you will not be happy about this decree, but for the sake of both students and staff, I must insist. This ban takes effect immediately, and henceforth any singing in corridors, classrooms, or dormitories will be punishable by detention or, in extreme cases, removal of the vocal cords. Singing will be permitted in the grounds between the hours of nine A.M. and six P.M., provided it is kept to a reasonably low volume. Singing alarm clocks in particular are banned with the entire school and grounds. That is all."

Lucius dragged himself back out of the Hall to a wave of muffled but appreciative applause. Remus, sitting at the High Table next to a grateful-looking Minerva McGonagall, looked extremely pleased with himself.

When the Chimaeras finally straggled into the Room of Requirement, they were met with an awesome sight. Six massive Basilisks were coiled on one side of the room, watching the entering students with keen interest. Their eyes were once more obscured by the smoky blindfolds. Harry was lounging against the shiny coils of the smallest one, beaming.

"Hey, guys, right on time!"

Ernie Macmillan stared at the Basilisks in horrified fascination. "Blimey, Harry, what are they doing here?"

"They're our targets." Harry said, grinning as he stroked the snake's smooth scales. Hermione gasped, her eyes lighting up.

"Of course! Basilisks are resistant to all kinds of magic, especially hexes and curses!"

"Exactly." Harry said, smiling at her. "They're much less predictable than enchanted dummies, and none of the curses we're using will be able to harm them."

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was trying very hard to stifle his laughter as he watched his Chimaeras dashing about like headless chickens, trying desperately to land hits on the weaving, elusive Basilisks. The giant snakes had taken to this interesting new game with a vengeance, and were leading the students on a merry dance indeed. Harry checked that the magical video recorder was running properly and smirked. Riddle was going to _love_ this.

The door opened, and a familiar face poked around it, smiling warmly. "How much did I miss?"

"Susan!" Momentarily breaking off their efforts to curse the Basilisks, the Chimaeras clustered around her, babbling excitedly. Harry shushed them with the aid of a few well-placed Silencing Charms, then turned to Susan, beaming. "Welcome back, Susan. You're all right?"

"Good as new." Susan said, eyes sparkling. "Thanks to you and Professor Riddle, really. I heard you called up a bunch of Basilisks to kill the Ulamas - looks like those weren't just crazy rumors after all. How did you do it?"

Harry chuckled. "Well, it's a long story..."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

Albus Dumbledore looked around at his followers with a grave expression. "These are dark times indeed, my friends. We have suffered several heavy blows. Harry is clearly beyond any hope of redemption: he has been corrupted by Lord Voldemort."

Gasps were heard, but Dumbledore continued. "Remus has left us as well: we are still searching for him, but he appears to have gone to ground. In addition, Moaning Myrtle appears to have somehow broken the spells I placed on her - we are now fighting blind, my friends. Worse still, I received word this morning that Ginny Weasley, Parvati Patil, Romilda Vane, and Cho Chang are all missing. They have not been seen since yesterday morning."

Molly Weasley sat forward, her face white, her eyes glittering as hard as diamonds. "We're going to make You-Know-Who pay though, aren't we, Albus? We'll make him pay for hurting our Ginny!"

Albus nodded. "Yes, of course, Molly. However, the time for stealth and guile is past. Lord Voldemort and Harry have decimated the ranks of our spies and agents within Hogwarts: we must make our move now, before we lose all hope of the advantage of surprise."

Mad-Eye Moody scowled. "What's the plan, then, Albus? We need to hit that bastard where it hurts, but how do we do that?"

Albus's eyes twinkled, like starlight on Arctic pack ice. "It's quite simple, Alastor. We must strike at his newest ally."

The proclamation hung in the air, heavy and fateful, sending chills down more than one spine.

"_Harry Potter must die_."

...

...

_Okay, when Harry said live targets, how many of you thought it was going to be Ginny and the others? Heh heh. I'm not quite that malicious. The first song that Harry sings is 'Sirens of the Seven Seas' by Sirenia. Second song is, of course, Turn the Page by Blind Guardian. As much as I love that song, I shudder to think of being woken up by it. In accordance with the above decree by Headmaster Malfoy, this concludes the musical portion of my fic. Thank you all for putting up with my admittedly odd taste. _


	19. Chapter 19

_Author's Note: Well well well! First off, a thousand thanks to the many readers of this story who also read and reviewed my recently posted one-shot, That's Called Insulting The Balrog. I am delighted to announce that it is thus confirmed, by popular consensus, that I do indeed possess a sense of humor! Helga has admitted defeat, bowing to the opinions of my faithful readers - and she is infinitely jealous when I told her about my Draco-esque cake. She wanted to know where she could get one. I told her they are made exclusively by wonderful Werebunnies for hardworking authors. She looked at me for a minute with a rather baffled expression, then asked, "What's a wear-bunny? Was that supposed to be some kind of joke?" Oh, dear Helga. I am beginning to think that it is she who possesses no sense of humor. _

_A.N.2: I have definitely bitten off more than I can chew. I have five fics in progress right now: a Dragonlance, a Bionicle, a Coldfire, a Coldfire/Criminal Minds crossover, and this one. On top of that, I have plot bunnies breeding like mad in my head, producing various half-finished one-shots for different fandoms and pairings. Like the short, funny Drarry I just posted. Fortunately for my chewing, dragons can unhinge their jaws like snakes, so I may yet pull through. My car accident certainly didn't help there, though. Moreover, they're **all** slash! Of course, that **may** be because I never write anything else... like, NEVER. Worse still, I'm already getting fragments of a Harry Potter/Coldfire Trilogy crossover drifting in my brain, along with the outlines of a Lord of the Rings fic. Urgh. I really need to figure out how to turn off the inspiration for a while. _

_**Attention All Smut-Lovers:** For the many who wish to read an uncensored version of this fic - Part One of an uncensored edition shall be posted on my DeviantArt account sometime in the next week or so. My username there is Mercuryshade999, and that version **will** contain the sex scene I edited out of Chapter Eight. Oh, and in a later Part, the rest of the smutty teaser I'm giving you in this chapter. Ain't I an evil dragon? _

_A.N.3: I've incorporated a suggestion from a reviewer in here, I'll elaborate in another note at the end, I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise. See if you can guess which little plot element I used! Also, just for fun, have a game of "spot the Guild Wars reference" while you read. It's there. _

Harry sighed, gave up on all attempts at propriety, and stuck his feet up on the desk, tilting his chair back. Hermione shot him a poisonous look, but he ignored her: on her other side, Ron was giving him half-admiring, half-envious looks. At the head of the class, Professor Binns was droning on and on about the founding of the modern vampire clans. Most of the class was either sleeping, or daydreaming about what they were going to have for lunch - when the achingly dull History of Magic class finally ended, that is. Stifling a yawn, Harry closed his eyes and poked at the faint glow of power at the back of his mind.

_Tom, I'm bored._

A faint chuckle echoed back to him. _Shouldn't you be listening to your teacher, my little serpent?_

_It's History of Magic. I think Binns died because he bored **himself** to death. Who else could possibly make the breakup of the ancient vampire Kingdom and the formation of the clans sound boring?_

_That is quite the achievement. _Riddle sounded deeply amused, damn him. _The Bloodstone Wars were vicious, hard-fought, and just as bloody as their name would suggest. Alucard the Red single-handedly killed over a thousand Muggles, draining each one of their blood and life-force to increase his own power. _

Harry sat up properly in his chair again, curiosity piqued. He snatched up his quill, earning a shocked stare from Ron and a surprised, but very pleased look from Hermione. Pretending to listen to Binns, Harry prodded the link again.

_Keep talking, I just got more out of those two sentences than I did from six years of History of Magic. Alucard the Red, you say?_

Riddle was chuckling again. _It's terribly irresponsible of me to help one of my students to cheat, you know. _

_You spent most of last night fucking said student through the mattress, so it's a little late to be worrying about 'appropriate'. _Harry retorted. Riddle made a peculiar sound halfway between a hiss and a purr.

_I don't recall you protesting. In fact, I don't recall you saying anything besides my name, along with a few instances of 'harder' and 'Merlin' and 'yes' and 'please fuck me, Tom!'. _

Harry quickly tipped his head forward over his parchment and braced one cheek against his hand with his elbow on the desk, using his hand to partially shade his now-burning face. _Oy! You do realize I'm sitting in class, right? I think Hermione's going to notice if I'm blushing for no reason!_

_It's hardly my fault if you blush, my little serpent. _Riddle hissed. _You ought to have known better than to bring up my fantastic prowess in bed. Besides, I'm actually __**teaching **__a class right now, and I'm still talking to you. Perhaps you need to practice the art of multitasking, my love. Now, where were we?_

_You were going to help me cheat on my History of Magic assignment. _

_Ah, yes. The Bloodstone Wars. The first war started in 748 B.C., which was only three years after the legendary Merlin had passed on: most historians believe that it was only his moderating influence that had been holding the vampire nation in check..._

For the next half-hour, Harry got a full course in vampire history, courtesy of the Dark Lord himself. They covered Alucard the Red's rise to power, the Cult of Drakkar, and the Egyptian Rebellion. By the time Binns wrapped up his droning monologue, Harry had a longer sheet of notes than Hermione, and could have written a novel on the strategies and motivations of the various factions of vampires.

Hermione was staring at him in amazement. "Wow, Harry. It looked like you weren't paying attention earlier, but I guess I was wrong - I don't think I've ever seen you take notes like that in class!"

"Vampires are pretty interesting." Harry said, shrugging and suppressing a broad grin. Oh, if she knew what he and Riddle had been saying in the gaps between the lectures...

Ron shook his head. "You've gone off your rocker, mate. Oh well - at least it's time for lunch. I'm starved."

_Oh, I think there are much better things to do with the lunch period. Wouldn't you agree, my little serpent? _Riddle drawled lazily in the back of his mind. Harry felt a coil of heat stir inside him, and almost groaned aloud. Apparently, one of the many traditional traits of Dark Lords was an insatiable libido. Riddle was old enough to be his grandfather, yet he seemed utterly incapable of tiring. Harry cleared his throat uncomfortably, and said quickly, "Actually, guys, I just remembered: I left my Potions book in the dormitory, and you know Snape'll kill me if I show up without my textbook. You guys go ahead to lunch - if I've got time I'll catch you there, if not, I'll see you in Potions."

"Alright, Harry, see you later." Hermione said distractedly, already reviewing her notes from History of Magic. Harry avoided Ron's brief look of question and hurried toward Gryffindor Tower. The second he was out of sight of his friends he slipped down a secret passage, took a few judicious shortcuts behind tapestries and down hidden stairs, and emerged from behind a lavish wall hanging in Riddle's office.

Riddle glanced up from his paperwork, eyes gleaming as a predatory smile curled across his face. "Well, that was fast. Aren't your little friends wondering where you disappeared to?"

"Told them I forgot my Potions book, said I was going back to the Tower to get it." Harry panted, grinning as he ditched his bookbag and moved across the room to stand in front of his seated lover. "Eating is for the lesser folk, don't you think?"

Riddle chuckled deeply, catching hold of Harry's wrists and dragging him forward until Harry was straddling him in the chair. The older wizard's silver eyes blazed with amusement and desire as he leaned forward and pressed a languid, openmouthed kiss against Harry's neck, eliciting a delighted shiver from his emerald-eyed lover.

"I couldn't agree more."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

Harry turned up seven minutes late for Potions with his hair at least five times messier than usual, his eyes positively shining, and sporting a magnificent hickey on his neck that no amount of collar-tugging could have concealed. Snape's face turned a vague, pasty green color, and he didn't even try to dock any points from Gryffindor for lateness. Smirking so hard it almost hurt, Harry slid into a seat between Hermione and Draco, who was looking at him with an expression of utmost horror.

After Snape had given them their assignments and told them to start, the Slytherin leaned over and hissed, "Seriously, Harry? It's not enough you're sleeping with the Dark Lord, you've got to sneak off and shag him during lunch?"

"Jealous much, Draco?" Harry purred, his voice sounding suspiciously rough. Draco blanched, prompting a half-suppressed giggle from Hermione and a satisfied snicker from Ron, who was sitting on Hermione's other side. Draco glared.

"I am _not_ jealous_._ Malfoys are never _jealous_!"

"Yeah, sure." Harry said, grinning as he opened his textbook to the required page. "Just like they don't blush, right?"

Draco's head dropped forward onto the desk with a thud.

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

At the gates of Hogwarts, MacNair and Rabastan Lestrange were on duty today. Like each day before, there had been no sign of nefarious activity: just the occasional Bowtruckle ambling past, whistling in a vaguely wooden way. All that was about to change.

With shocking swiftness, a party of dark-robed figures appeared out of thin air, curses already flying. The two Death Eaters dropped without a sound, their hands frozen halfway to their wands. A grizzled figure with only one good leg kicked Macnair's limp body over onto his back, sneering down in disgust.

"Death Eater scum." Moody spat, turning from the motionless body and stumping back to the party of twenty-four Order of the Phoenix members. "We'd better move fast. You-Know-Who won't be keeping very close tabs on Potter, but we need to get in and out quickly anyway: he'll react sooner or later, if only to protect his investment."

Tonks glanced at their leader, looking confused. "I thought Harry and You-Know-Who were lovers now?"

Dumbledore nodded, his blue eyes somber. "Of course, but that does not mean he cares for Harry. He is manipulating the boy." Inwardly, Dumbledore was shaking his head at the gullibility of his allies: he told them each something slightly different, and not once had they thought to compare notes and check the stories they were given. "Sadly, there is no guarantee we could bring Harry back to the light, and we dare not take the risk: that is why we are here today. The wards will allow me to pass, as I was so recently Headmaster. Come."

Dumbledore stepped forward, leading the way through the gates - but the moment he set foot on the grounds of Hogwarts, all hell broke loose.

Inside the ancient castle, a screeching wail pierced the air, not unlike a Klaxon alarm. Harry was hit with a double blow: the alarm, and his lover's shout inside his head.

_Dumbledore! The bastard's at the gates! Call your army, Harry, we are under attack!_

The students were in chaos when Harry sprang to his feet and leaped onto the desk, firing a blast of red sparks from his wand. "QUIET!"

Silence fell. Harry slashed his wand down through the air, turning a look of pure determination on the students. "Albus Dumbledore has breached the wards of Hogwarts. I ask all students not actively involved in the war effort to proceed calmly and quickly to their dorms. Chimaeras, rise!"

Snape watched in disbelief as over half of his class rose proudly to their feet, drawing wands and readying themselves in a calm, organized manner for battle. Harry nodded approvingly, then turned to Snape. "Well, Professor? Now's the time to choose, once and for all - us, or Dumbledore?"

"That is the stupidest question you've asked yet in my class, Mr. Potter." Snape said, drawing his own wand and nodding to the bewildered handful of students who were not involved with the Chimaeras and knew nothing of the changing power dynamic within the school. "You heard him. Return to your dormitories. You don't want to be in the middle of what's coming."

The students fled. Harry reached into his pocket and pulled out the enchanted coin he used to communicate with his Chimaeras, tapping it with his wand: the lettering around the edge turned red, and the coin glowed softly as it heated up. Harry tucked it back into his pocket, nodding to the students that had remained. "Follow me."

He led his impromptu army up from the dungeons into the Entrance Hall. Riddle met him there: he had more than a dozen Death Eaters with him, though Merlin only knew how they'd Apparated past the wards. Lucius was with them, pale but resolute, and Remus as well - the werewolf looked angrier than Harry had seen him in a long time, his amber eyes burning with the fury of the wolf.

"This is bolder than I would have expected." Riddle said, his silver eyes fastening onto Harry, bright with the anticipation of conflict. "I can only assume that Dumbledore has underestimated the strength of our alliance and thought to eliminate one of us - probably you, Harry."

"Then let's show him just how wrong he is, shall we?" Harry said, grinning as he twirled his wand ominously. At that moment, the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw Chimaeras came rushing down the stares and poured into the Hall, wands out and ready for battle. Ernie was leading them, and he nodded to Harry, grinning recklessly.

"Time to fight, eh, Harry?"

Harry nodded, a cold smile curling over his face as he turned to Riddle. "Shall we?"

Riddle smirked, and blasted open the front doors with a flick of his wand, bowing. "After you, my beloved Consort."

Harry had walked head-first into danger many times before, but never like this. This time he was not stumbling alone through some dark and terrifying labyrinth, unable to see what lay ahead: this time, he was walking tall and proud at his lover's side, backed by over fifty students whom he had personally trained, flanked by powerful and battle-hardened Death Eaters. He was striding down the rolling lawns toward the gates of Hogwarts, able to clearly see the Order of the Phoenix members throwing themselves against Riddle's modified wards on the gates, only just now starting to break through. He made out the form of Albus Dumbledore at their head, white hair and beard shining in the sun, and a surge of rage flowed through him. He used that anger, took hold of it and shaped it and molded it into a deadly weapon. That was something else that Riddle had taught him: anger did not have to be suppressed, it could be _used_.

Dumbledore looked up as he sensed their approach, and the elderly wizard froze in shock for a moment. The other Order members started as well, then assumed defensive positions as they realized they were heavily outnumbered. The defenders moved forward until they were only a few yards from Dumbledore's group before halting. Riddle spoke first, his voice dripping with scorn.

"You are a fool, Dumbledore, if you think that you have made a wise move in coming here. The Ministry has a thousand-Galleon price on your head, and in case it has escaped your notice, Harry and I now _both_ want you dead. This is not a good place for you to be, old man."

Dumbledore ignored him and looked straight at Harry. "Harry, my boy, I am terribly sorry for all that has happened-"

"Sorry?" Harry repeated, his eyes narrowing, a lethal smirk curling over his lips as his eyes started to glow a brilliant viridian. "Well, I hate to inform you of this, _Professor_, but this is one of those times where 'sorry' doesn't make it better. You killed one of my Chimaeras, there's no way I'll ever forgive you for that."

Before Dumbledore could respond, Mrs. Weasley stepped forward, her eyes narrowed dangerously. "Ronald Bilious Weasley, why exactly are you standing there with _them_?"

Ron glared at her, clutching his wand tightly. "Because I decided to do the right thing this time. Save your breath: I won't be coming back."

Riddle smiled coldly at Dumbledore. "You see, old man? Your reign is finished. Oh, and just in case you didn't know..." Reaching out, he curled one arm around Harry's waist and drew the teen close against his side. "Harry is my official Consort now, so you won't be turning us against each other any time soon. You didn't really believe that I wouldn't be watching over my soulmate, did you?"

There were gasps from Dumbledore's allies: the old wizard realized then just how much Riddle knew. If the Dark Lord kept talking, all of the scheming wizard's secrets might be spilled for his followers to hear. Making a quick decision, Dumbledore seized the moment and cried out to the Order of the Phoenix members.

"Retreat!"

The instant the words left his lips, Harry and Riddle's forces sprang into action. There was a flurry of curses and hexes, jets of multicolored light exploding through the air: the Order of the Phoenix members were hardest hit, vastly outnumbered by the Chimaeras and Death Eaters. As they scrambled back outside the school's wards and tried frantically to Disapparate, many were hit with painful or even deadly spells. Dumbledore was the last to escape, and as he turned on the spot he heard a furious shout in Harry's voice.

"_Alopecia!_"

With a sharp crack, Dumbledore Disapparated, just as the jet of turquoise light struck him. Silence fell across the grounds - until the Chimaeras burst into cheers.

Harry grinned broadly as he flung himself into Riddle's arms, eyes shining with happiness now instead of rage. "We did it, Tom! Our first direct confrontation, and we won!"

Riddle chuckled, pulling his lover close. "We did indeed, love. A shame we couldn't capture the old fool, but there'll be time enough for that later. What was that last hex you shot at him? I didn't even recognize it, and it looked peculiarly benign - it was only turquoise, for Merlin's sake."

Harry smiled wickedly. "Oh, it's not even classified as Dark, love. That said, I think it will definitely ruin his day." Rising onto his toes, he whispered the spell's function into Riddle's ear: a terrifyingly wicked look of delight suffused the Dark Lord's expression as he threw back his head and laughed aloud.

"I do so love the way you think, my little serpent." he breathed, tilting his head back down and claiming Harry's lips in a passionate kiss.

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

The members of the raiding party materialized in the front hall of the current Order hideout, bedraggled and much the worse for wear. Dumbledore was in a towering rage by this point, and very nearly snapped his wand in half, he was holding it so tightly. The other fighters had never seen him so furious: he looked even more frightening than Mrs. Weasley.

"_Someone_," he said through gritted teeth, blue eyes flashing dangerously, "is going to pay _dearly _for this little debacle."

Mrs. Weasley, the only one not cowering, was staring at him in horror. "Oh, gracious - Merlin - Albus! Look at yourself!"

A thin thread of alarm snaked through Dumbledore's anger. That last spell of Harry's that had hit him, had it done some damage after all? Apprehensively, he turned to find a mirror - and froze in shock and horror.

A three-foot-long beard, snowy white and lovingly groomed. Flowing white hair, dignified and distinguished, marking him as an elderly wizard of great wisdom who still had the grace to take care of his looks.

Gone.

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was completely, utterly, _horrifyingly_ bald.

In a Muggle town nearly two miles away, a distant screeching sound was heard. The sound, although faint, was so chilling that several of the more superstitious townsfolk clutched their crucifixes and sent up a quick prayer for protection. Others muttered of harpies and banshees, creatures of darkness and evil come to drag the souls of Sinners away to Hell.

No one ever guessed it was just one foolish, now bald, old man.

...

...

_Werebunny87, the image of a bald, distraught Dumbledore was simply too purely wonderful to resist. Thank you thank you thank you for that inspiring, hysterically funny image! _


	20. Chapter 20

_Author's Note: Man, this took a long time to write out... never fear though, it's not over until the Fat Lady's sung. Riddle has insisted that he will not give up until Dumbledore is dead and buried, and for once I am in complete agreement with his Lordship. DUMBLEDORE MUST DIE! MWAHAHAHA! Ahem. Yes. On with the fic, eh?_

_A.N.2: Since it's now open season on old bald wizards, I have a question for all my loyal readers. How do __**you**__ think Dumbledore should die? I have some ideas, but Riddle has insisted that I garner the opinions of his adoring public, because he wants to get some political profit out of the death as well as revenge. So please, by all means, send me your bloodthirsty schemes! His Lordship will be more than happy to take them under advisement. _

_A.N.3: So, in this chapter, we begin to return to our roots - namely, I'm working in some more plot elements from the original 'Pain'. And no, I'm not telling you which ones - sheesh, you people. _

_A.N.4: There is a cameo appearance in this chapter by a character from another series. Not enough to make this a true crossover, just enough of a glimpse to warrant a mention. Those who have never read the Coldfire Trilogy will probably not even notice anything very far out of the ordinary. A certain someone, though, who is at least slightly familiar with the Coldfire Trilogy, is going to know what I'm talking about and hopefully get a giggle or two out of it. Let me just say this: some people *cough-demons-cough* just never change. If anyone actually cares, I was thinking that said cameo would tie in somewhere after the end of my CF fic "Darkness Lays Her Crimson Cloak". My reasons for this cameo? Heh heh. An author never reveals their secrets. Let's just say I was having a bit of writer's block, and this was my solution._

_..._

_**FORMER HEADMASTER ATTACKS HOGWARTS!**_

_At a time when the magical community is still reeling from the return of the Dark Lord, a new menace seems determined to undermine our safety from within. Albus Dumbledore was once revered and honored through Wizarding Great Britain as a wise and benevolent leader, a brilliant statesman and the defeater of the Dark Wizard Grindelwald. Now, he is a wanted criminal on the run, convicted in absentia of murder, importing Dark creatures, and use of illegal Dark magic. Yesterday he committed a heinous offense that very few have dared - a direct attack upon Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. _

_At half-past two o'clock yesterday afternoon, the school came under attack by Albus Dumbledore himself, aided by approximately two dozen members of his now-outlawed militia group, the Order of the Phoenix. Rumors have it that he was attempting a covert assassination of Harry Potter, our greatest hope against He Who Must Not Be Named. In the thwarting of this brazen and seemingly reckless attack, several shocking revelations came to light. _

_It seems that young Harry Potter has not been idle this school year. More than half of the student of Hogwarts joined forces to battle the outlaws: it later came to light that these young people are a part of the Order of the Chimaera, an organization of students that have been personally trained in defensive magic by Mr. Potter himself. This group of young warriors have been trained in very advanced defensive magic, and rumors are rife that they are preparing for a secret tactical strike against He Who Must Not Be Named himself!_

_Once again, in addition to the young members of the Order of the Chimaera, Professor Tom Riddle was on the front lines of battle once more. Most shocking of all, perhaps, is what has come to light regarding the relationship between Professor Riddle and Mr. Potter. According to anonymous sources very close to our young Savior, Mr. Potter and Professor Riddle are in fact engaged in a romantic relationship, perhaps even a formal courtship! While many young women admit to being very disappointed at the revelation that their hero is unattainable, all those we spoke to expressed their support and well-wishes regarding the Chosen One's happiness, no matter what form it takes. _

Harry put down the paper with a smile, shaking his head ruefully. "Well, I guess that's the beginning of the end, Tom. The media and the students who still follow Dumbledore will be on us like vultures before the day's out."

Riddle smirked at him, his silver eyes glowing briefly red. "Let them come. Anyone who so much as looks at you the wrong way is going to regret the day they were born. Now, I've spoken with Lucius, and you're excused from your classes for today: I've got a meeting with some allies to attend, and I want you there with me."

Harry blinked and looked up at his lover, startled. "Really?"

They were in Riddle's private quarters, lazing about and enjoying each other's company over a private breakfast instead of eating in the Great Hall. Not something that was technically allowed, but Lucius was hardly going to try and tell the Dark Lord what to do. Harry was sprawled out on the bed, paper at hand: Riddle was at his desk, where he had started grading some DADA papers from the day before. Harry had teased him about the mighty Dark Lord slaving over paperwork, but in truth he rather enjoyed watching his lover work, his silver eyes intent on the paper and a thoughtful expression on the handsome face.

Riddle looked up, smiling briefly. "Of course. You are my Consort now, after all - my allies ought to get used to you being around, and I want your input."

Harry rolled onto his stomach and gazed at Riddle curiously. "What's the meeting about?"

"Hunting down that meddling old coot who calls himself a wizard." Riddle said darkly, marking an 'A' on one of the papers, so viciously that the quill splintered a bit at the tip. "I'm debating various ways of going about it, and I want their opinions. I have quite a few allies skilled in disposing of inconvenient individuals: vampires, demons, werewolves and the like. I've summoned the various leaders together, and I'm going to see what their approaches would be to rooting out our foe."

Harry grinned at the thought. "Sounds like a damn good plan. Can they be trusted to keep their mouths shut, or should I wear a disguise?"

Riddle smirked. "Oh, they'll hold their tongues. They're powerful magical creatures, but I am Lord Voldemort - they're far more scared of me than the general populace is scared of them."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

An hour and a half later, Harry had to admit that his lover knew what he was doing.

The meeting was being held at the Riddle Manor in Little Hangelton, in a huge room that must have been some kind of dining hall. It served as a throne room now, a literal throne on a raised dais at one end and the rest of the room taken up by a low table, lined with chairs for the attendees. Riddle conjured a second throne one the dais for his consort: Harry was deeply touched that his lover had made such a demonstrative gesture. It was one thing for Riddle to say he loved him, but it was another thing entirely to have the older wizard proclaim that love for the whole world to see.

Shortly after Riddle and Harry were settled in, the 'allies' began to arrive. Several vampires were there, along with a varied host of literal demons: Harry was amazed to find that unlike in Muggle tales, the demons didn't have red skin and pointed horns. In fact, many of them looked almost human - the only hints of their true natures were the slightly pointed teeth, the faint hellfire glow that sparked in their eyes at certain angles, and a certain aura of danger and power. Fenrir Greyback was in attendance as well, but he was very quiet: he seemed uneasy around Harry, and kept shooting nervous looks at the former Saviour. Harry didn't dignify the werewolf's wariness with a reaction, and watched his lover fish for ideas amongst the various supernatural creatures.

The results were surprisingly lackluster. The ideas the demons and vampires came up with were very bloodthirsty, of course - but they also had gaping flaws. Finally, after nearly a half hour, Riddle lost patience.

"In the name of Morgana - does no one here have an original idea?" the Dark Lord hissed, exasperated. "What has gotten into you all today? I'm very disappointed, my comrades." He cast his crimson gaze over the rather sheepish-looking ranks, then gestured sharply to one figure. "You! Demon! Whatever your name is - surely you have something for me?"

The 'demon' in question looked very little like a demon, in Harry's opinion. He appeared to be nothing more than a rather portly man in ridiculously ostentatious robes, emerald green velvet trimmed with rich fur. His plump face had a rather indulgent and well-meaning air about it, and there were certainly no horns on his head. Harry barely refrained from questioning his lover's sanity then and there. _This_ was a demon?

The portly man bowed flourishingly. "Your Worshipful Dark-Lordness, surely in your infinite wisdom you have no need of humble demons like myself?"

Riddle rolled his eyes. "You always have an idea, demon. Out with it, before I lose my sense of humor."

The demon smiled. It was an unsettling smile: the look in his dark eyes suggested he knew far, far more than he was letting on. His instincts suddenly tingling, Harry thought that perhaps the strange figure was more demonic than he initially seemed. The demon shrugged.

"As you wish, my Lord. Perhaps a decoy of sorts, to lure them into a trap?"

Riddle sat forward on his throne, every fiber suddenly taut with awareness. "What sort of decoy?"

A discontented, jealous murmur ran through the room at the Dark Lord's sudden interest, but the demon paid it absolutely no heed. "This Albus Dumbledore seems very convinced of his own persuasiveness. Perhaps you might choose a loyal individual, with skill in acting, to play the traitor? Convince the old wizard that they are the ones with an advantage? Lure them to a location of your choosing, and attack them there. If it did not bring you Dumbledore himself, it would at least draw out many of their best warriors."

Riddle's red eyes gleamed as he chuckled softly. "A marvelous plan, as always. Remind me, demon - what is your name? Your title?"

The demon echoed the Dark Lord's quiet laughter. "Karril, my Lord. Just Karril. If you will kindly excuse me now, I must return to my own land: I'm afraid a rather dear friend in getting himself in an excessive amount of trouble, and I shall have to bail him out yet again. These vampire types, they simply refuse to follow the rules - always pushing the envelope..."

Riddle gestured. "Yes, yes, Karril, you may go. Oh, and tell your 'friend' I am very grateful: I found our little chat about romantic entanglements most... illuminating."

Karril grinned widely. "I'm sure he'll be delighted to hear it. He was getting terribly insecure, thinking he was the only paragon of evil foolish enough to fall in love. Ta-ta for now." The demon promptly vanished into thin air, as suddenly as if he had Disapparated.

Riddle dismissed the other Dark creatures, and they went, albeit a little sullenly. When they were alone, Harry shot a bewildered look at Riddle. "Who the hell was that Karril character?"

Riddle chuckled. "Just a demon I met some years ago. He's not very evil as demons go, but he associates with another Dark Lord of sorts, and he's picked up some excellent tips from the other fellow. Of course, the other Lord he works with has already succeeded in his conquest - remarkable individual, really. I talked with him shortly after discovering that you and I were soulmates: he was most sympathetic. Seems he fell in love with a priest who had sworn to destroy him, so he more than understood. Still, never mind that now. What do you think of Karril's suggestion?"

"I think it might work brilliantly." Harry said after a moment's thought. "Dumbledore's just overconfident enough to fall for it. Who should we get to play the traitor?"

Riddle smirked. "I'm sure you'll find one of your little friends who can take the role. In the meantime, we _do_ have quite a while before you need to return to Hogwarts..."

Harry laughed, his green eyes sparkling as he rose and prowled over to his lover's throne, slithering forward so that he was straddling Riddle in the throne, his eyes dancing with mischief as he let the older wizard pull him closer. "And you have some ideas for that time, do you?"

Riddle smiled wickedly. "But of course." he purred, drawing Harry down into a searing kiss.

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

At that moment at Hogwarts, Draco and Neville were taking advantage of a shared free period to sneak away down to the lakeside. They were sprawled comfortably on the grass under the willow trees at the lake's edge, enjoying the mixture of cool west wind and warm autumn sunlight, the golden and crimson leaves spiraling slowly down around them. They were sheltered from the view of the castle by a low barrier of bush and scrub, locked away in their own private world of glowing sunlight and glittering water.

Neville smiled shyly at Draco. "Maybe Dumbledore turning out to be such a bastard was a good thing after all. I mean, I've liked you for ages, but I had no idea you liked me too."

Draco smiled, his grey eyes much softer than usual as he turned his head to gaze at his Gryffindor. "I'm sorry I was so horrible to you, Nev. I was just worried about what would happen if people found out I liked you - back then, I didn't know how awful Dumbledore was, or how merciful and just the Dark Lord really was."

Neville grinned. "Don't worry about it, Dray. It's all in the past: all that matters is that we're together now."

Draco laughed at the typically Gryffindor statement, but he made no effort to quell the affection that bloomed through his heart as he reached for Neville's hand. A sudden sharp crackling sound in the bushes behind them, though, had both of them sitting up and reaching for their wands.

"What was that?" Neville whispered hoarsely. Draco lifted his wand, opening his mouth to reply - but before he could say a word, there was a blur of movement and a sharp dual-toned hissing screech, and everything went black.

...

...

_Oops, another evil cliffie! My sincere apologies, it just came out that way. Next chapter will be along soon, don't forget to let me know how you would choose to exterminate Dumbledore!_


	21. Chapter 21

_Author's Note: Well well, that was something I was not expecting! Apparently, Karril's stubborn attempt to hijack my fic has generated some interest! Of course you realize, if I give you people even a taste of Gerald Tarrant (the 'other Dark Lord' I mentioned) then you're going to be hooked. 'Course, that's not necessarily a bad thing, it's worked nicely for me... heh heh. I shall certainly consider it. _

_A.N.2: My goodness, you people certainly are fond of Draco and Nev, aren't you? I feel so evil for tormenting you like this... but then, I am a Slytherin as well as a dragon, so a certain amount of evil is to be expected! _

_..._

Neville opened his eyes slowly, groaning as pain lanced through him. Wherever he was, it was very dark: he was lying on cold stone, rough and almost mossy-feeling, though thankfully dry. He lay very still, absorbing his surroundings. As he peered up into the darkness, he noted that he seemed to be lying on the floor of a fairly small room, with no visible door. He also seemed to be alone, at least until a soft whimper reached his ears.

"Dray." he whispered, making a great effort and rolling onto his side.

Draco was lying face-down next to him, his pale hair a tangled mess against the dark stone, stirring weakly. Pushing himself up onto his elbows, Neville reached out, gently smoothing the silky strands from his boyfriend's face.

"Dray, can you hear me?"

Draco moaned weakly, his grey eyes fluttering open. He winced, shifting so that he was on his side facing Neville, blinking blearily. "Nev? Where are we?"

Neville glanced around, swallowing hard. His initial impression had been pretty accurate: a dark stone chamber, about twelve feet by ten, with no door. The ceiling was lost in shadow, and the floor and part of the lower walls was covered in a clinging growth of some thick, dark green moss. It grew much thicker on the walls, were it actually layered itself a few inches deep in places. The Gryffindor shook his head helplessly.

"I don't know. This doesn't look like anywhere in Hogwarts, but I'm not Harry, I don't know every corner and crevice of the castle. Are you hurt?"

Draco slowly pushed himself into a sitting position, wincing every now and then as he did so. "My whole body kind of aches, but I can't find any visible wounds... scratch that, there's something on my neck."

His heart sinking, Neville sat up and gently pulled Draco's hand from his neck so that he could see. He gulped when he saw the small, neat punctures. "Dray, this looks like a snakebite. Do I have one too?"

Draco checked. "Damn. Yes. That thing that attacked us at the lake... or things. Do you think this is one of Dumbledore's schemes?"

"I hope not." Neville murmured, fear twisting in his chest. The next moment, though, a flash of determination chased it away. A klutz he might be, but he was still a Gryffindor, and he wasn't going to cower. Drawing a deep breath, he tried to think. "Okay. We should check quickly to see if we can find a door in here, even though I doubt we will: it won't hurt to make sure."

Draco nodded, his body starting to shake slightly as he tried to rise. Neville caught his hand, making the Slytherin look him in the eyes. "Hey. We're going to get out of here, alright? I don't have Harry's miracle luck, but we'll figure something out together."

Draco relaxed slightly, a small smile stealing over his lips. "Alright."

They stood and began examining the walls. As Neville had suspected, though, there was no sign of a door. As it happened, though, something important _was_ discovered.

As his fingers combed through the moss, searching for a crack that might hint at the presence of a door, Neville felt a tingling itch on his neck near the bite. Absently, he reached up to scratch it - and froze, sudden hope thrilling through him. Trying not to jump to conclusions, he grabbed a bit of the moss from the wall and lifted it to his nose, sniffing carefully.

Wormwood. The moss smelled like wormwood.

Neville's quiet hiss of triumph caused Draco to turn, hope in his eyes. "Did you find a door, Nev?"

"Better, Dray." the Gryffindor said, turning, a broad smile on his face as he held up a shred of the moss. "So much better."

Draco frowned, bewildered. "The moss? What about it?"

"It's not moss, Dray." Neville said, grinning. "I thought it was at first, too, but I just smelled it on my hands. Here. Smell it, see if it smells familiar."

Puzzled, Draco took the bit of moss and sniffed it. His frown deepened. "Woody, but sort of floral..." his eyes widened, and he looked up at Neville. "It smells like wormwood. But I don't get it - wormwood is a shrub."

"It's not wormwood, it just smells like it." Neville said excitedly. Draco lifted an eyebrow, baffled but still hopeful: his area of expertise was Potions, but everyone at Hogwarts knew of the shy Gryffindor's passion for Herbology.

"Okay. What smells like wormwood, but looks like moss?"

"It's got a fancy formal name that you probably don't know, but in Potions it's usually called Crystal Lichen." Neville said, grinning broadly. Draco's jaw dropped.

"Wait. Crystal Lichen? That's incredibly rare - I can't remember exactly what it does, though."

Neville actually laughed, looking absolutely delighted. "Well, it's funny that you should ask..."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

The second that Harry and Riddle set foot in the Entrance Hall upon their return from Riddle Manor, they found themselves facing a very grim-looking Severus Snape. Except for the dour Potions Master, the Hall was completely empty, a rather ominous sign.

"My Lord. We have a problem."

Riddle frowned, his silver eyes darkening, turning toward red. "What is it?"

Snape swallowed hard. "Draco and Neville Longbottom have disappeared, my Lord."

"_WHAT?_" Harry's hand clenched around his wand, anger and fear shooting through his veins. "Since when? Where were they last seen?"

Snape winced. "They haven't been seen since this morning - they had a free period, and they told Miss Granger that they were going down to the lake together. When they didn't show up for Transfiguration, Minerva notified Lucius: we've scoured the castle, but we can't find any trace of either of them. Lucius is going out of his mind with worry: I think if it wasn't for Lupin, he'd have had a complete breakdown by now. He contacted Narcissa and she Flooed over from France shortly after lunch."

Riddle swore viciously in Parseltongue. "Are there any signs that the wards were breached?"

Snape frowned. "That's the odd thing. There's an unfamiliar signature down near the lake, but the wards read it as a serpent of some kind. What serpent would possibly ally with Dumbledore against you?"

Riddle stiffened, a slow hiss escaped his lips. Harry looked up at him, cold fear trickling down his spine as he sensed his soulmate's distress. "Tom, what is it?"

"There's only one serpent that would go against my wishes." Riddle murmured, his eyes turning completely crimson. "And there's only one place it could have come from - which means we've been betrayed. I should have known something was off when none of those demons could offer a reasonable plot... a curse on their black hearts!"

The Dark Lord turned, already sweeping back toward the door as he called over his shoulder, "Keep searching, Severus, we must find them swiftly! I shall be at the Manor, I have dark magic to perform and I dare not work these spells within the school grounds!"

Harry followed his lover: there was no question of him staying at Hogwarts. He knew he would be far more help to Neville and Draco by staying with Riddle. As they hurried toward the point where they could Apparate, Harry looked up at his lover.

"What do the demons have to do with this?"

"There is a type of serpent called an Amphisbaena." Riddle said grimly, his strides long and powerful, his jaw tightly set with leashed fury. "They are part demon, with a head at each end of their bodies: their venom is an incredibly powerful paralytic, more than enough to subdue two strong young wizards. Due to their demonic nature, the only place they truly thrive is Hell itself, though they leave occasionally to hunt. Those demon Lords that I summoned _knew_ something was afoot, and they failed to tell me. I shall have to deal with them swiftly and without mercy."

"How?" Harry asked, baffled. "They're demons - I know a lot of our legends are wrong, but surely even you can't just use the Cruciatus Curse or something and have it work!"

Riddle glanced down at him. "Don't let your Muggle upbringing cloud your judgement, Harry. Demons are eternal, but in the human realm they must take a human form, and while bound in mortal flesh they bleed just as easily as we do. What I really need to know is _why _they betrayed me. Tell me, love, have you ever used the Cruciatus Curse on anyone?"

"Just once." Harry muttered, remembering his run-in with Bellatrix Lestrange at the Ministry. "That was before I understood, though."

"Then today shall provide an excellent learning curve for you." Riddle said grimly, catching hold of Harry's arm and turning on the spot.

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

Dumbledore was staring at the mirror with a truly magnificent glower on his face, his blue eyes flashing: however, every few seconds a jolt of pain would run across the length and breadth of his scalp, and the constant winces turned his fierce scowl into something of a pout, more fitting for a sulking five-year-old than a wise and powerful wizard.

"Tell me at least managed to capture that Malfoy brat." he said sullenly, poking gingerly at his rather sensitized and completely bare scalp. The Hair Regrowth charms were simply _refusing_ to take, and without his impressive hair and beard, he no longer appeared remotely distinguished: indeed, he looked dreadfully, unimpressively _old_.

Tonks nodded, looking fairly neutral: obviously, she was containing her excitement as Moody had taught her. "Indeed we did, Albus. We got Neville Longbottom, too. They're in the Pit at this very moment."

Albus sighed. "_Finally_. At least _something _is going right today. And the Amphisbaena?"

"Dispatched to its next mission." Tonks confirmed, nodding. "I think we've got them this time, Albus, You Know Who won't have a clue what hit him."

Albus let out a long sigh of relief as he sank back into his chair, temporarily abandoning the mirror. The room where they currently sat was a good deal smaller, darker, and more humble than Albus would have chosen for his office, but the structure they were currently using as their headquarters was not exactly luxurious. They'd had to move locations yet _again_ after the attack on Hogwarts: the Aurors had been swarming far too thickly, and there was a strong chance that Remus would find a way around the Fidelius Charm and give away their location to Voldemort. Moving was a serious inconvenience, but a life sentence in Azkaban would be far more bothersome, at least as far as Albus Dumbledore was concerned.

He shook the dark thoughts from his mind and smiled at Tonks. "Thank you, my dear. You may go now."

The woman hesitated a moment, though, a frown marring her features. "Actually, Albus... there's something I wanted to ask you."

The elderly wizard raised his eyebrows - or rather, the skin where his eyebrows had once been. "Oh? Ask away, then, my dear."

Tonks shifted uncomfortably. "Well, it's just... when we were making our tactical strike on Hogwarts, You Know Who said something that I didn't quite understand. He said... well, after he said that Harry was his Consort, he implied that Harry was also his soulmate."

Dumbledore sighed heavily, his blue eyes dimming. "Alas, my dear, I fear that he has managed to convince poor Harry that they are somehow destined to be together: I have no doubt that it part of how he managed to seduce the poor boy in the first place. It is patently untrue, of course."

All worry was smoothed from Tonks's face. "Of course. Thank you, Albus: I was just curious about that." She left, shutting the door behind her: Dumbledore frowned. This was not good. If too many of his followers started to question his actions, some unpleasant revelations might come to light.

Before he could consider it further, though, he caught sight of himself in the mirror once more, and anger bubbled up in his gut. Damn that rebellious boy for destroying his dignity like this!

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

Tonks walked calmly down the hall to a small room next to the front door. Opening it, she found Arthur Weasley, Hestia Jones, and Kingsley Shacklebolt standing in a loose huddle. They all looked toward her as she came in and half-shut the door behind her. Arthur looked particularly grim. "Well?"

"It's true." Tonks said softly. "He lied, but I could see the fear in his eyes. Harry is You Know Who's soulmate, and Dumbledore tried to make them kill each other. He knew why Harry was going insane, and he let it happen anyway, because it suited his purposes."

Hestia sighed. "That's that settled, then. I never thought this day would come, but... it seems like we have no choice."

"This is a very worrisome development." Kingsley rumbled. "If Dumbledore has been lying about this, then he may have greatly deceived us about other aspects of the war as well. Who knows how much of what we think we know is utter fiction that he has woven to suit his own ends?"

"I guess Remus had it right." Arthur murmured, his eyes downcast. "We should have had more faith in Harry from the start."

"No point in crying over spilled milk, guys." Tonks said, opening the door once more and standing aside. "Time to set things right."

The four walked out of the room, turned, and proceeded out of the front doors of the headquarters. They strode past the boundaries of the Apparitions wards, cast a last disappointed glance back at the lair of those who had once professed to be the Light, and vanished into thin air with a soft pop.

...

...

_Some questions answered, more questions raised. Where are Nev and Dray being held? What does the Crystal Lichen do? Why did the demon Lords betray Riddle? Just what are Tonks and the others planning? Like I'm going to give you any hints now! You'll just have to wait until the next installment, since I'm so terribly sadistic. Mwahahahaha!_


	22. Chapter 22

_Author's Note: Woot! Over 400 reviews on this story! What a change... when I started writing this thing I was hoping for just fifty or so! I couldn't be happier, though. Hmm, that's interesting. No one's hit the mark on what the Crystal Lichen does yet, oddly enough. I thought I dropped a major hint with the wormwood thing, but maybe I'm just weird for knowing about that aspect of it... ah, well. More suspenseful this way, right? _

_A.N.2: Sorry that this chapter is so short, but I've been writing like a fiend to catch up on my other WIPs - including one for Bionicle and one for Dragonlance, neither of which had been updated since my car accident. Oops. So yeah, I'll have a longer update for you guys soon. _

_A.N.3: I hardly dare say it, but... I think this story is actually starting to draw near its end, dear readers. Events are finally converging on the great battle! I decided early on not to rush this story, to let it play out at its own pace, and I really think that decision paid off. Brace for the climax in the next couple chapters, my friends, and fasten your seatbelts! _

_..._

Harry and Riddle had Apparated directly into the front hall of Riddle Manor, the wards crackling as they recognized their magical signatures. Riddle let go of Harry's arm and swept off toward his throne room, his Consort on his heels, his expression dark with fury.

"When I get ahold of those demons... they are going to regret the day that they were _spawned_... of all the base treacheries, to _willfully _fail to inform me of an Amphisbaena being set loose..."

"How could Dumbledore have coerced them into this?" Harry wondered aloud as he hurried after his enraged lover. "Whether or not demons are subject to torture, I somehow doubt Dumbledore could have bullied them into joining him. Is there any reason they would _want_ to betray you?"

"Not if they wish to continue their pitiful existences." Riddle growled. He flung open the doors to the throne room with a mere gesture, hard enough that the heavy wooden panels slammed against the walls and rebounded: before he could start the summoning ritual, however, the Apparition point in the center of the hall glowed red.

Tonks, Kingsley, Arthur, and Hestia materialized to find themselves on the wrong ends of two wands, wands wielded by the most powerful wizards of the age. Harry blinked, his green eyes widening.

"Tonks? Kingsley? Mr. Weasley? What are you..."

Before Harry could finish, and before Riddle could start cursing them, all four dropped their wands. Tonks held out her hands, palms up, her expression apologetic. "Harry, first, I want to say I'm terribly sorry."

"We had absolutely no idea what Dumbledore was doing." Mr. Weasley added, his face pale as he looked earnestly from a stunned Harry to a suspicious Riddle. "He lied to our faces, but... we didn't know. We trusted him, and we took him at his word, something we never should have done."

Riddle lifted an eyebrow, intrigued in spite of his reservations. "You have realized that he is deceiving you?"

Hestia nodded fervently. "Oh, yes, we figured that out at Hogwarts. Almost everything he said during that raid contradicted with _something_ that he'd told someone previously. And then, when the bit about you being Harry's soulmate came up, well... at that point it was pretty much a foregone conclusion."

"We had absolutely no idea." Kingsley rumbled, his deep voice grave as he shook his head slowly. "To deliberately pit soulmates against each other, to destroy them both... what Dumbledore did was truly unforgivable. It seems that despite all he has told us, Dumbledore is by far the darker wizard in this war. That is why we are here - it's time we did what's truly right, instead of what that old maniac says is right."

"Also, we know where Draco Malfoy and Neville are being held." Tonks put in.

Instantly, Harry was on the alert. "Where are they? Are they alright?"

Arthur sighed and turned to Riddle. "Dumbledore found Gryffindor Castle."

Riddle stiffened, his eyes flashing red and narrowing to blazing slits. "Why, that deceptive old..."

Harry blinked, confused. "Wait, what? Gryffindor Castle?" He thought back to the long, dusty lessons in History of Magic. "I thought that was destroyed centuries ago."

"Not destroyed, hidden." Hestia said solemnly. "Dumbledore somehow got through the enchantments that guarded it: that's where the Order headquarters have been for the last few weeks, since he didn't show up for his trial. That's where they are keeping Longbottom and the Malfoy boy: there's a problem, though. The protections around the castle are incredibly powerful, all four of us put together couldn't manage to get into the place they're holding the boys. Dumbledore obviously planned in case of a betrayal."

"I can break the enchantments." Riddle said flatly. "How do we know that this isn't a trap?"

"We're all prepared to swear Wizarding Oaths that everything we have told you is true." Kingsley said.

Riddle glanced at Harry. _What do you think, little serpent? Can we trust their word?_

_We have to get to Draco and Neville before Dumbledore does something we can't undo._ Harry replied grimly. _Even if it is a trap, we're strong enough to beat him._

Riddle nodded slightly, and turned to their four new allies. "Very well. You will take us to Gryffindor Castle. I will deal with the demon Lords upon my return, this is far more urgent. Do you know what Dumbledore plans to do to Longbottom and Malfoy?"

Tonks shook her head. "Only that he was adamant that it be them, specifically. Something about them being widely trusted."

Harry and Riddle exchanged dark glances. This couldn't be good.

With the aid of their new comrades, Harry and Riddle Apparated to Gryffindor Castle. The defensive wards shattered upon their arrival, revealing the castle in all its glory. The castle had been absolutely magnificent, once: it was still an impressive sight with its sturdy walls and soaring towers, high ramparts and sprawling lawns. The stone was weather-worn and crumbled, though, and the gardens were overtaken by weeds: it looked a bit like Hogwarts, if the school had been abandoned for centuries with none to care for it but the wind and sun and forest.

Riddle blasted apart the rest of the wards with ease, but when they entered the ancient halls they found the place deserted. The air still hummed with the residual magic of dozens of Disapparations, and it was clear that Tonks and the others had not lied - the Order of the Phoenix had been here less than a half-hour ago, but they had vanished without a trace during the time that Tonks and her comrades had been talking to Harry and Riddle.

They found the place where Draco and Neville had been kept: it was a square stone-walled pit about twenty feet deep, accessible only from a trapdoor at the top. The enchantments keeping the room sealed and hidden were gone, and the trapdoor stood open, the chamber empty. Harry swore viciously, his magic flaring in anger.

"We _just_ missed them! Where the hell could they have gone?"

"When I get ahold of Albus Dumbledore, I am going to devise the most painful, prolonged torture that the world has ever seen, and inflict it on him - repeatedly." Riddle hissed. He rounded on Tonks. "Where have they gone? What is Dumbledore planning?"

Tonks looked close to tears by this point. "I don't know! Dumbledore never tells us stuff like that - he feeds us just barely enough to get our jobs done, and sometimes not even that!"

Riddle swore as well then stood for a moment, thinking hard. Harry, too, was weighing their options frantically. After a moment, he reached a decision. "Tom, I think we should head back to the Manor. If these guys don't know what Dumbledore's planning, the demons might - and the only other place they might attack is Hogwarts, but Lucius and Remus can handle that."

Riddle nodded slowly. "Yes, I think you're right, Harry." A wicked smirk crawled across the Dark Lord's face, and his eyes turned blazing crimson. "In fact, I have an idea. My alliance with the demon Lords is mostly by proxy: I had the good fortune to befriend a very powerful individual from another world, who commands the respect and subservience of demons everywhere. If I bring him into this... they'll be _begging_ to tell me everything they know by the time he's done."

A slow, chilling smile spread across Harry's face as he caught his lover's train of thought. "Use whatever resources you have, hmm? How fast can you get in touch with this man?"

"Very quickly indeed." Riddle murmured, his eyes shining with malevolent intent. "All we have to do is return to the Manor, and I can have him here on Earth in a matter of minutes... and those demons had best pray that God has mercy on them, because Gerald Tarrant will not."

...

...

_Author's Note: Yeah, I made my decision. By the rules of that bet I lost a few months ago, I'm bound to spread the awareness of the Coldfire Trilogy as far as possible, and besides - I so totally want to have Gerald kick ass on Dumbledore's allies! Trust me, people, it's going to be epic! And anyway, it's easier bringing in an awesome pre-existing character than trying to make up an OC to fill the role. Stay tuned for the Dramatic Downfall of Dumbledore!_


	23. Chapter 23

_Author's Note: Terribly sorry for the delays, RL madness and a frenzy of Halloween-themed writing is to blame: I've been working on a one-shot for the Coldfire Trilogy and two for HP in honor of the holiday season, all of which I'll be posting soon. One Draco/Harry and one Tom/Harry, both Halloween-oriented, so if you're interested, keep your eyes peeled. _

_A.N.2: So, here we go: the great showdown approaches. In an attempt to properly showcase the awesomeness incarnate that is Gerald Tarrant, I have left poor Damien on Erna. He is sulking about that, but this is Gerald's moment of evil glory, so Damien can just get over it. _

_A.N.3: **A note for those readers who are not familiar with the Coldfire Trilogy** (meaning most of you!). Gerald Tarrant is technically undead, and uses a type of magic-like power called the 'fae'. One of the main advantages he gains from this is the control of a special kind of fire that acts like regular fire except it creates cold instead of heat - the eponymous **coldfire.** He shares many characteristics with the common vampire, including immortality and a fatal weakness to sunlight, but he has no problems with religious symbols or garlic - he's far too arrogant for little things like that! Also, instead of drinking blood, he usually feeds on pure fear, although he can also feed on dark emotions like anger, despair, and hatred. He has a lot of titles, but the important ones are: 'the Hunter', (the name by which he is known by most of his homeworld - the equivalent of the title 'Lord Voldemort') and 'The Darkest Prince of Hell' (I think you can guess how he got that one). His seat of power, the Hunter's Keep, is located in a semi-sentient forest called the Forest of Jahanna. The world he comes from, Erna, is a world in the far reaches of the Milky Way that was colonized by settlers from a futuristic Earth who traveled there in stasis, only to have their technology destroyed and basically be reduced to a medieval level of technology. That should cover the basics, and suffice to fill in any gaps I forget to cover in the chapter. _

_A.N.4: I guess it's true. Every person who has ever read the Coldfire Trilogy ends up at least a little bit in love with Gerald Tarrant. According to the reviews, I've induced fangirl moments in several of my readers, simply by the mention of Gerald's name. Oops? _

_..._

The party of six Apparated back to Riddle Manor with a sharp crack. Riddle lingered only long enough to order Tonks, Hestia, Kingsley, and Arthur to stay put in the drawing room before sweeping off, Harry once again practically jogging to keep up. "How exactly does this work?" he asked, panting lightly as they entered a heavily warded room that Riddle kept just for the purposes of heavy spellwork like this.

Riddle was already waving his wand in complicated patterns, tracing runes in the air. "This room has a permanent temporal link with Erna, the world that Gerald Tarrant is from - from what I've been able to determine, that world is actually in an alternate dimension of some sort, which is why it was necessary to create a stable, permanent link instead of simply using an advanced form of Apparition. All I have to do is weave the portal on this end, and it will connect on the other side - and then the bargaining starts. Believe me, Tarrant does nothing for free."

As he spoke, Riddle made a last sweeping gesture with his wand, and a sudden swirl of multicolored light blossomed in the middle of the room. Harry watched, wide-eyed, as the swirling colors expanded to form a large upright oval, hovering a few inches above the floor. A moment passed, then the heart of the colors melted away to reveal the other side, like a window in midair.

The widow revealed a glimpse of what looked to be a magnificent castle of some sort, dark colors highlighted with the occasional touch of gold and crimson. The details were blurred by the distortion of the portal, though, as were the features of the tall, fair-haired man who stood on the other side of the temporal gap.

"Lord Voldemort. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

"I'm afraid I require your assistance on a rather urgent matter, Lord Tarrant." Riddle said tightly. "Can you spare the time to assist me in disposing of a certain troublesome enemy?"

Harry couldn't be sure, but the man seemed to smile. "I always have time for a Hunt, Lord Voldemort. I shall need only a moment or two to set my affairs in order, and I will join you."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

On the Ernan side of the portal, Gerald Tarrant was being subjected to a very pointed glare from his lover, the former Church Knight and officially corrupted hero Damien Kilcannon Vryce. "You know, Gerald, I really need to get a Healer to check my hearing. See, I could have sworn I just heard you say that you were going to be gallivanting off to some alternate dimension of Earth and leaving me here to look after the Forest."

Gerald was busy collecting a few helpful artifacts from about the room, including his coldfire-imbued sword. "I won't be gone more than a day or two, love, and you know this alliance has been extremely profitable in the past. Remember to feed the wolves, if nothing else is available you can always round up some foolhardy crusaders from Sheva."

Damien sighed and rolled his eyes. "Yes, love, I know. Feed the wolves, keep an eye on the Forest, put down any rebellions, make sure all of Erna still fears the Hunter. I know the drill. Just... don't be gone too long, alright? I worry about you."

Gerald's silver eyes softened a little and he smiled at Damien. "I'll be back in less than three days, alright?"

"Alright." Crossing the luxurious carmine carpet, Damien pulled the Hunter into a light, sweet kiss. "Stay safe, and for God's sake stay out of the sunlight."

"Yes, I shall do my best to avoid being burned to a crisp." Gerald said dryly, and turned to the glowing window of rainbow light.

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

When the portal flared with light and a form materialized in the chamber, Harry was expecting either some vaguely inhuman creature like the serpentine 'Lord Voldemort' glamours that Riddle sometimes wore, or someone completely unassuming, like Karril. What he was not expecting was the slim, elegant aristocrat that appeared before them, brushing a speck of nonexistent dust from his silken sleeve.

Despite all that he had seen in recent days, Harry could only stare. The man who had just stepped out of the portal was, if possible, even more breathtakingly handsome than Riddle! He was tall and lean, willowy but still somehow intimidating: he moved with a catlike grace, his motion almost unnaturally fluid. His clothing was strange, but obviously expensive: graduated layers of velvet and silk, vaguely medieval-looking, with a satiny black cape draped over his shoulders. He was strikingly pale, almost corpselike, but the deathly shade suited his fine-carved, almost effeminate features quite well. His eyes were silvery-grey, much like Riddle's, but with a sharp diamondine glitter where Riddle's tended to glow like molten metal. He was blond, and with his aristocratic bearing and air of subtle haughtiness, he reminded Harry a little of Draco Malfoy: Tarrant's shoulder-length hair was less platinum than Draco's, though, a more vibrant burnished gold. Between the golden hair, alabaster skin, and silvery eyes, he looked more like an angel than someone who had earned a title like the Darkest Prince of Hell. He nodded smoothly to the Dark Lord.

"Lord Voldemort. A delight, as always."

His voice was a little higher in tone than Riddle's, a slightly lilting tenor in place of Riddle's warm baritone, but it carried the same rich sense of power. Riddle nodded in return, respectfully.

"Lord Tarrant. Thank you for coming, I know how you hate to leave the Forest. Allow me to introduce Harry Potter, my Consort."

Harry gathered his wits enough to return Tarrant's nod. The other Lord's eyes sparkled with a hint of sardonic humor. "Well. You spoke of a romantic entanglement, Lord Voldemort, but you didn't mention that you were a cradle-robber."

Harry bit back a defensive retort, recognizing the jibe as humor, no matter how darkly worded. Instead, he said evenly, "According to my former mentor, I'm old enough to die for the sake of Wizardkind, so I think that makes me old enough to do whatever I please."

That earned him an amused glance from Riddle and a sharp, assessing look from Tarrant. The blond's lips quirked slightly in the shadow of a smile. "I see. Forgive my rather hasty assumption, young Lord, I seem to have underestimated you."

Harry nodded in acceptance, more impressed than he wanted to admit by the man's smooth manners. Riddle cleared his throat. "To business, then, Lord Tarrant. I need your assistance dealing with an old enemy of mine - one who has gone much too far in his attempts to harm my allies and myself."

Tarrant raised one fair eyebrow, a cold light dawning in his mercury eyes. "Is that so? Well, I am always glad to assist such a _steadfast_ ally as yourself... just tell me who I'm hunting."

"Albus Dumbledore." Riddle said grimly. "He's taken two of Harry's friends hostage, and has been launching repeated attacks on Hogwarts and us in particular."

Tarrant looked intrigued. "And he has managed to evade you? Interesting... You've mentioned before that this Dumbledore is very powerful. How old is he?"

Riddle frowned. "About... a hundred and fifteen, I should think. Why?"

Tarrant's eyes narrowed, and the coldest smile Harry had ever seen spread across his angelic features. The combination was enough to make even the hardened Dark Lord shiver a bit. "Excellent. So many years of thinking himself invincible, yet accruing enemies with each day that passes - I imagine he will be particularly susceptible to my methods of inspiring fear. Do you need him alive?"

Harry and Riddle exchanged a long, meaningful look. Riddle's question echoed in Harry's mind. _The choice is yours, my love. I assure you, if the Hunter finishes him, Dumbledore's death will be just as slow and agonizing as anything I could devise - perhaps more so. Lord Tarrant has had over a thousand years to practice his craft, after all._

Harry considered that for a moment, then looked at Tarrant. "You can have him. Just make sure he suffers."

Tarrant smiled again and bowed slightly. His silver eyes seemed to change for a moment: the icy grey darkened, falling into a swirling abyss of hungry black that raised the hairs on the back of Harry's neck.

"Oh, I assure you, he _will_ regret every moment of his life by the time I am finished with him... including the day he was born."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

At that moment, Albus Dumbledore was pacing furiously in a woodland clearing. This was simply intolerable! Tonks had betrayed him, along with Kingsley, Hestia, and Arthur Weasley: his people were dropping like flies around him, those that weren't hunted down by Riddle were defecting, and to pour salt on the open wound, the Dark Lord had found their headquarters yet again! The Order had been reduced to locating their base of operations in the middle of a forest, for Merlin's sake!

Alastor Moody approached at that moment, expression grim. He was dragging a bound, gagged, and blindfolded Draco Malfoy by the arm: the blond was struggling furiously, but Moody's grip was like a vice as he stopped at the edge of the clearing.

Dumbledore stopped pacing and sighed. "At least this part of the plan will still work. The Longbottom boy is still secure?"

Moody nodded. "We'll Imperius them separately, then send them back to Hogwarts. Less chance of interference with the spells if they're cast separately. Once they're in past the wards, we just have to wait until one of them can lure Potter out."

A muffled noise came from Draco as he tried his utmost to bite through the gag in his mouth. Dumbledore's blue eyes grew cold as he looked at the Slytherin.

"Good. It's time we brought this war to an end." He lifted his wand.

"_Imperio!_"

Draco's struggles ceased instantly: he straightened, standing still and relaxed. Moody reached up and undid the blindfold - the pureblood's grey eyes were glassy and calm, his expression neutral. Dumbledore smiled.

It was a warm, kindly smile. The sort of smile that made you trust the wearer, because no one who smiled that gently could be a villain.

"Perfect. Now, Draco Malfoy, you will go to Hogwarts, and you will persuade Harry Potter to go for a walk with you, down by the Forbidden Forest."

"I will go to Hogwarts." Draco repeated, his voice detached and cool. Moody shook his head.

"Just as well the little devils never listened in DADA, eh, Albus?"

"Indeed, Alastor. Just as well."

~HP~HP~HP~HP~HP~

Someplace far away, on the plane of existence that served as Earth's personal Hell, a group of demons sat about the thick slab of onyx which formed their meeting table. They were deep in discussion, reviewing the instructions they had been given, when a soft 'pop' echoed through the room.

Karril had just materialized in the chamber, near the head of the table, wearing a broad grin that was somehow far more chilling than it had any right to be. "Ah, good evening to you all, my esteemed fellow demons and demigods. Have you heard the news?"

A tall demon, who actually possessed the classic curving horns and forked tail that humans always seemed to depict on his kind, frowned sternly at the visitor. "Do not speak in riddles, Ernan. What news do you bring?"

Karril chuckled lowly. "Ah, so you haven't heard. You see, Riddle's on to you. He knows something's up - and you know what he's done? He's called in Gerald Tarrant. The only man who has utterly destroyed one of us and lived to tell the tale."

There was a ripple of scornful laughter: the horned demon sneered in disdain. "You expect us to believe such a wild claim, Karril? You think we'll believe that Gerald Tarrant, the Darkest Prince of Hell, cares what we get up to? I hardly think so. Go spin your tales for someone else, _God of Pleasure_: leave us to our business, and mind your own."

Karril shrugged, his face expressionless, though inwardly he was cackling madly. By the Demonic Code, the Demon Lords were bound to warn each other in advance of an attack, to give the one being attacked the chance to make amends and avert a genuine battle. Those rules had been instituted aeons ago, due to the rampant destruction that could result when they went to war against each other. Even though the Hunter wasn't technically a Demon Lord, Karril had just set it up so that the true Demon Lords would have absolutely no recourse when Tarrant set about _disciplining_ them. They had been outright warned. There fate was now sealed.

Karril vanished from the Demon Council and willed himself to Riddle Manor. He appeared just as Tarrant was debating strategy with Riddle: the three Dark sorcerers had adjourned to the lavishly appointed study, Riddle and Harry curled up together on one couch and Tarrant settled in a sort of elegant sprawl on the other. Karril watched as both Earth wizards started at his sudden appearance, returning Tarrant's smirk. "Afternoon, all. Everything's set, Gerald, they walked straight into the trap."

The Hunter's eyes glittered with cold delight. "They took the bait?"

"Hook, line, and sinker." Karril confirmed. "Rassilos said - and I quote - _you think we'll believe that Gerald Tarrant, the Darkest Prince of Hell, cares what we get up to?_'. He thinks I was only fear-mongering. That covers the requirements of forewarning, though, so you're free to slaughter them at will."

Riddle's grey eyes widened in sudden comprehension. "You circumvented the Demonic Code? You're good, Lord Tarrant, very good indeed." A look of genuine admiration was on the Dark Lord's face.

"Look, I hate to interrupt here, but aren't you lot forgetting something?" Harry spoke up suddenly. Riddle glanced at him curiously.

"What might that be?"

Harry sighed. "Apparently, these demons have gotten such overinflated egos they're not even scared of you, Lord Tarrant. How the hell - pardon the phrasing - did Dumbledore ever get them to cooperate?"

There was a long pause, then Tarrant shook his head. "You have excellent taste, Lord Voldemort. That is a very good question, young Lord - I doubt we shall find any definite answers until Albus Dumbledore has been dealt with. I do, however, have certain suspicions... which, if correct, mean that Dumbledore has been very busily digging his own grave."

Karril's eyes lit up. "You don't think he was stupid enough to try _that_, do you?"

"I can't see how else he would have done it." Tarrant said thoughtfully. "Unless he somehow bought the aid of one of the preeminent Lords, like Rassilos, and the others simply followed... but after what I did to Calesta, I doubt they would risk that. And with the way they're constantly fighting for dominance, I doubt such an alliance would have lasted without at least one betrayal. No, I think the only way Dumbledore could have pulled this off without making them believe that they were safe from Voldemort, which means he must have convinced them he is a Summoner's Heir."

Even Riddle looked confused at that one. "A _what_, precisely?"

Tarrant smirked faintly. "A Summoner's Heir. It's a long story: suffice it to say that in ancient times - ancient even by Wizarding standards - certain foolhardy individuals sought to tame the Demon Lords. Some few of them were strong enough to succeed: they were given the title of Summoner. The way demons look at things, each person's descendants are a part of that person, so any direct descendant of a Summoner still commands the loyalty of the Demon Lords. I myself am technically a Summoner's Heir, although that lineage is from my mother's side of the family, and I had no idea of my status until Karril informed me some decades after I became the Hunter. I suppose it is possible that Dumbledore is actually a partial Heir as well, but he cannot be a true Heir - the last known line of Heirs died out centuries ago."

"So if we expose him as a fraud, the demons will turn on him?" Harry asked, his green eyes lighting up with vindictive eagerness.

Tarrant smiled coldly. "Indeed. Given what Karril has related... I very much doubt that they will be pleased to see me. Not too long ago I was responsible for the death of an Iezu, a demon renowned for its near-invulnerability to all physical forces: they've started calling me _Kis'hnav'rarren_. It means 'slayer of immortals' in the demonic cant. If it comes down to a contest between myself and Albus Dumbledore, they will undoubtedly abandon him rather than face my wrath."

"Excellent." Riddle smirked, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. "In that case, Lord Tarrant, I suggest that you and our demonic friend here iron out a final strategy: my Consort and I could use a bit of a rest, we've had a rather long day."

Tarrant rose, bowing gracefully. "As you wish. Karril?"

The Hunter swept out, Karril on his heels. Harry allowed himself a soft sigh and sank back against the couch cushions, closing his eyes in exhaustion. As the adrenaline faded, he had grown more and more weary: by now, he felt like he might just pass out. As they sat there in silence, though, a question that had been niggling at the back of his mind started to push forward more and more. Before he even knew it, Harry was speaking, his voice unusually hesitant. "Tom, love, can I ask you something?"

Riddle had delved into a book on demon magicks that he had conjured from somewhere: he looked up from the pages swiftly and smiled at Harry, his silver eyes warming. "Of course, little serpent. You can always ask me anything, you know that."

Harry bit his lip, but there was no help for it: the thought had been burning in his mind since the arrival of Gerald Tarrant. He'd seen the little glances that Riddle shared with the Ernan man, the way they seemed to understand each other's ideas even before they were spoken aloud, and Harry was going to have to get an answer to his questions or he would go mad from wondering. "I don't mean to pry, obviously, but... from the way you two were acting earlier, I wondered... was there ever anything between you and the Hunter?"

Riddle's silver eyes shadowed slightly: he obviously understood what kind of 'anything' Harry was asking about. He hesitated just a moment, then said honestly, "Yes. Decades ago now, before you or Damien Vryce were even born, but - yes. We were... lovers, for a time."

Harry felt a tight knot of jealousy coil in his gut, but he resisted it: he knew it wasn't even close to rational. As Riddle had said, he wasn't even born at the time, it wasn't as though the older wizard had _betrayed_ him. He nodded, slowly.

"Alright. Were you planning on telling me?"

Riddle set the book down on the low table in front of the couch and leveled a steady gaze at Harry. "I assumed that, if you wished to know, you would ask. I will never lie to you, Harry, but there are going to be issues on which I don't volunteer information. If you hadn't guessed the history between Lord Tarrant and I from our actions, then you would not have needed to know - especially given that I was certain it would make you uncomfortable."

Harry sighed and let some more of the tension relax from his overwound muscles. "I know. Thank you for answering, anyway: I know it was a really personal question..."

Riddle reached out and caught hold of Harry's hand, clasping it gently. "Love, you are my soulmate. I will never lie to you - and I will not refuse to answer, either, if you feel it important enough to ask. I will not do what Dumbledore did and keep vital information from you, whether or not I believe it is in your best interests. As to what happened between Lord Tarrant and I - it could not even remotely be considered within the realm of _affection_. It started as a simple mentor-apprentice relationship: I was still quite young at the time, young and reckless and ambitious and power-hungry, and Lord Tarrant... _Gerald_ was fascinated by the opportunity to study an alternate of Earth, and more than willing to teach me about the effective application of power in return. After a while, though, things changed: Merlin knows there was enough mutual attraction there, and so we ended up - dallying, if you will. There was always a clear understanding between us, though, that no emotional attachment was expected _or_ welcomed by either party. Eventually, our paths parted: he had other issues to deal with on Erna, and I devoted myself to my quest for power. We parted on good terms and remained allies, but nothing more."

Harry turned that over in his mind for a little while, then nodded slowly. "Okay. I can't really say that I'm _alright_ with it - honestly, I'd like to hex him from here to next month - but we need his help, and this was all so long ago that I don't really have any right to be pissed off. Just - if he so much as looks at you the wrong way, I'm going to have to AK him, is that clear?"

Riddle chuckled softly. "Quite. You don't need to worry, though, love: he won't try anything. For all his failings, Gerald has a very strict code of honor, and he's apparently just as content with this Damien Vryce as I am with you. He's not the type to jeopardize something like that."

Harry nodded. "Good. Now, where were we?"

Riddle smirked at him. "I believe we were plotting the gruesome demise of Albus Dumbledore."

"Ah, yes." Harry said, slowly matching his lover's expression. "That reminds me: I have some ideas about what to do with the rest of the Barbecued Chickens..."

...

...

_Author's Note: Before you all go apeshit on me, I **promise** that the purpose of the Crystal Lichen will be revealed next chapter: this was already a long one, and I'd already taken too long to post, so that revelation will have to wait for the next one. Besides, Gerald pulled his usual trick and stole the stage. So, keep your shorts on: it's coming, I swear. _


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